


A Handmade Scrapbook

by stifledlaughter



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Designation: Miracle - Freeform, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2020-11-24 19:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 79,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20913074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stifledlaughter/pseuds/stifledlaughter
Summary: The biggest events of a person's life might merit the title of a scrapbook, but it's the small moments in between that fill out the pages.---An ever-growing collection of drabbles set in @umisabaku's "Designation: Miracle" alternate universe, ranging from humor to fluff to character studies and whatever else falls in between. Contains basically all of the characters and relationships from D:M universe, to save on tagging.





	1. The Root of the Matter

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Don't Blink You'll Miss It (Lift Up Your Head)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5556464) by [umisabaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/umisabaku/pseuds/umisabaku). 

> Welcome to my fanfic of a fanfic!  
For these drabbles I strongly suggest you read at least the first of the "Designation: Miracle" series because while I can tell you "in this AU, they're superpowered teenagers who escaped an experimentation facility and now just play basketball and try to survive just existing", you'll miss a lot of the excellent nuance and characterization the series offers the characters that I built off of.  
Also, as these are my own separate ideas, they may go against future canon or conflict.  
No idea how many I'll add, gonna keep writing til I run out of steam.  
Here is what the gists are for each chapter if you want to skip through for whatever you're looking for:  
1\. Gen, humor  
2\. AkaFuri, romance, fluff  
3\. MasaYou, pining, unresolved sexual tension, poetry  
4\. AkaFuri, Guns and Flowers fanfic, humor  
5\. Mutual pining, college days, MasaYou hanahaki, angst but no death  
6\. OT4 Happy AU ficlet where Masaomi, Youji, Shiori, and Hinami are living together/in romantic cahoots. Fluff, Hurt/Comfort (mostly comfort!)  
7\. Bodyswap fic between Miracles and their boyfriend's, humor, mild angst  
8\. Midorima tries to stop an earthquake, goes into a brief coma, Midotaka + introspection, angst with happy ending  
9\. Ancient Greece/Oracle OT4 (Hinami + Shiori + Youji + Masaomi) AU  
10\. Light in Dark Places (umisabaku's original novel) OT4 AU  
11\. Miracles and Boyfriends find themselves talked about in gossip magazines (Humor)  
12\. Happy OT4 AU, Shiori gives her son Seijuurou some advice  
13\. Humor, KiKasa + Guns and Flowers shenanigans  
14\. Dreamsharing AU, HinaShi, friends to lovers, happy ending  
15\. Revolutionary Girl Utena AU, HinaShi, very short.  
16\. Happy OT4 AU, poly family raising baby Yukio  
17\. HinaShi "Your soulmate's first words to you are written on your arm" AU  
18\. MuraMuro thoughtful fluff  
19\. OT4 Heist AU  
20\. MidoTaka fluff  
21\. Happy AU, Shiori bonds with Red/Seijuurou, then meets Furihata  
22\. Mob Psycho 100 crossover, Masaomi meets Reigen

"What the fuck? You just... regrow teeth?" said Aomine, aghast.

"Well, they were always there, but they just get pushed to the top of the gums-" started Takao but quickly shut up at Midorima's horrified expression. 

"Hold on hold on hold on," said Aomine, eyes wide. "You all... the teeth just fall out at one point. And this is normal or expected."

Himuro narrowed his eyes. "You guys are fucking with us."

"Who's story sounds more believable? That you _have a second set of teeth_ or that you just have the same teeth your whole life? What, do you guys regrow other bones? Fingers? Toes?" 

Midorima looked thoughtful. "I will call Kishitani-sensei. He will be able to help us." 

As Midorima pulled out his phone, Takao leaned over and whispered to Himuro, "Okay, normally, when weird revelations come out, it's really sad and horrifying but this is just bizarre."

"They've got to be fucking with us," said Himuro vehemently. 

"Hello, Kishitani-sensei. We have a medical question," said Midorima in a very formal tone. 

"Oh God. Are you all hurt? Is anyone bleeding? Dead? I'll be right there-" 

"Nothing of the sort. It is a factual question regarding no injuries."

"Oh... good. Okay. Sure. What is it?"

"We have been informed that humans are born with one set of teeth, which fall out on their own to make way for a second set of teeth. This was not the case with us. Can you confirm if this is a falsehood?" 

"It... that's true? Human children around the ages from six to twelve lose their first set of teeth. We call them baby teeth."

"HA!" shouted Takao, fist pumping into the air. "I TOLD YOU."

"I don't understand," said Midorima. "What is the point? That's inefficient. Why do they not simply grow larger such as our other bones?"

The sigh through the phone from Kishitani was long-suffering only in the way a parent who wasn't prepared to have this conversation would be. "I don't have time to go into it but yes, there are two sets of teeth. In fact some parents keep the baby teeth from their children as sentimental mementos-"

"Ew!" cried Momoi. "Why? That are bones! Pieces of your child's body!" 

"You usually clean off the blood," added Kishitani helpfully. 

"Are you telling me that somewhere, in our guardian's houses, there could be a pile of children's teeth?" demanded Momoi. 

"I... oh, oh _nooooo,_ medical emergency, I've really got to run! I will see you for dinner, Midorima!" and then the doctor hung up. 

A silence fell over the table as the Miracles present took in this information. 

"If you all think this is weird," mused Takao aloud, "wait til you guys find out about the Tooth Fairy."


	2. Another name, as sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Furihata tries to be romantic, and might actually succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set a few months after Akashi and Furihata have started dating. Probably should read/have an idea what happened in "You Could Never Wear My Crown (Cause It Weighs Too Much)" to get some context clues but you could also just read it because I sure as hell can't stop you, now can I.
> 
> The book referenced in the fic is "Enchanter" by Sara Douglass.

"I think I found a nickname for you," said Furihata thoughtfully as he looked up at Akashi's face. Well, more accurately, his chin, since Furihata was laying down, back against his partner's chest, as they rested on the bed. Things were fairly quiet at the Akashi mansion after Sunday night dinner, and the two of them were taking a moment before heading out for a walk. 

"Oh?" said Akashi, scootching a bit so that he could see Furihata's face better. "Do tell." 

Furihata had always liked the concept of giving nicknames to people. He'd swooned over parts in romance novels where people shyly told each other to use their first names, or to drop the honorifics. He lived for the passages where someone who normally referred to their friend by their last name called them their first name in concern. Names held such power. 

He wasn't a powerful guy very often, if at all, but he relished saying his lover's name in quiet, intimate moments, earning him a satisfied spark in Akashi's eyes. 

So that's why he had taken very keen interest in picking a nickname for Akashi - well, the two of them, actually. 

It was an interesting balance, keeping up with the two of them - he knew that there was sometimes a smattering of jealousy from one to the other, and he tried to make things equal between them. Perhaps equal was the wrong word - equitable, at least, so that neither felt left out. 

He knew that the more present one, the one who had come back after the Winter Cup, was softer and kinder, while the other was more aggressive. But the more aggressive one, who he called Seijuurou to differentiate, had been key to helping them survive their time in the second Teiko, and he found something alluring in that strength and determination. 

He'd realized after dating Akashi for several months that he'd fallen for both of them, and the both, in turn, were overjoyed to hear that. It probably worked out for the best- Furihata really had no idea how it would work if he only saw one of the two as a romantic interest. 

He also had really no one else to talk to about this phenomenon, despite having a plethora of Miracles around that all had their own quirks. Maybe he could talk with Riko about it sometime - after all, she had started dating both Hyuuga and Teppei. It wasn't quite the same, but that's the closest he could get. 

And to commemorate his love for both of them, he had picked two nicknames. 

"So I got one idea from a book I read a long time ago," Furihata said, rolling over so he could sit up and face Akashi. "There was a couple, and he called her by her name with 'heart' added. I always thought that was.... kind of nice?" Describing it felt unbearably cheesy, and he dipped his head to press into Akashi's chest. "Actually you know what? I've changed my mind-"

Furihata's forehead rumbled with the laughter that came from Akashi's chest, and he felt himself being pulled up to face-to-face with his partner, now with both of them cross-legged on the bed. 

"Furi," murmured his partner, and Furihata flushed, having a hard time meeting those red eyes that were focusing on him, amused. 

"I didn't even ask you if you wanted a nickname!" he blurted, quickly losing his confidence in this. Is that someone someone had to consent to, after all? He knew that the Miracles had been given their names by their guardians, and had special attachments to what they were called. (He did always wonder how his lover got a name such as "absolute subjugation" but he also picked up that Akashi's father was also a bit... odd himself so it probably made sense at the time.) 

"So... first... can I give you a nickname?" asked Furihata, who watched Akashi's face for any hint of distaste. "Both of you."

Akashi's eyes widened, both red, until they flashed briefly red-gold, and then back to red. "Both of us?"

Furihata nodded. "Yeah, because, you both mean a lot to me, and I want to make sure you both get one. So... do you want them?"

Akashi reached out and held Furi's hands. "Of course. I will take anything you give me, Furi. Always." 

Furi blushed and tried to keep his calm, as if one of the most romantic sentences he'd ever heard wasn't just directed at him. "I was thinking... I always liked how people called other people 'my love', and then I remembered that nickname from the book, so... I decided on 'my love' for you, and 'my heart' for Seijuurou?"

There was silence for a mere second, but that gave Furihata too much time to think. Instantly he realized what he had just said, and wondered if he could dive directly through the window to escape the situation. As he calculated the possible damage he would take from the fall, he didn't notice that Akashi was staring at him wordlessly, and then pulled him in for a kiss. 

"Mmmpphh?" questioned Furihata, but Akashi pulled him in closer and he fell more into the kiss. _I guess he liked the nicknames? _ Furi mused, based on context clues. 

They broke apart, and as Furihata caught his breath (_every! time! Why can't I be cool when getting kissed, ever?), _Akashi smiled genuinely. "Those are wonderful, Kouki. I appreciate them very much. We both do."

Furi, still holding Akashi's hands, squeezed them tightly. "Oh- I'm really glad. I've... never done this before. I don't know if this is the right way to do it."

"If I liked then, well, wasn't it right then?"

Furihata couldn't argue with that logic. "That's true... my love." 

Yep, he definitely did this right, because very few things could make Akashi blush as deeply as that. 


	3. its bark more bronze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poetry analysis between two college roommates. Nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all are in the mood for POETIC YEARNING.  
(The two characters in this story are OCs of the Designation: Universe AU (Akashi Masaomi and Kasamatsu Youji) and thus would be very difficult to understand if you have not read the stories.)

"Fuck poetry," Masaomi hears from Youji's bedroom. "_Ugh._" 

Masaomi rather likes poetry- it's one of the few things that challenged him as he breezed through his Ph.D.'s. He was quick to understand computer chip machinations at fourteen but spent hours trying to understand e.e cummings. He didn't think anyone could put an orgasm in poem form, but he had been proven wrong and had been in awe. "Trouble in _Paradise, Lost?"_

"I don't know what that means but sure, fuck that too."

Masaomi heads into Youji's room, which is in a state of disarray due to midterms. Youji is hunched over his desk, blowing out a frustrated breath. "We got assigned this poem to analyze through a 'narrator-critical lens' and I don't get it. Is it a translation issue? Here's the English." He hands Masaomi both sheets of paper. 

Masaomi reads over the poem, and then checks the original English. A rather fine translation - he would have changed a few words, but translation was an art, not a science, which was something else had struggled to learn. 

"Yeah, the original is just as confusing. Not a translation error."

"Damn. I was just going to blame the English language for this." 

"Granted I do that too, but this isn't the case here. Let me read over this again."

_“The Way One Animal Trusts Another”_  
_ Carl Phillips_

_ Somewhere between what it feels like, to be at_  
_ one with the sea, and to understand the sea as_  
_ mere context for the boat whose engine refuses_  
_ finally to turn over: yeah, I know the place—_  
_ stumbled into it myself, once; twice, almost. All_  
_ around and in between the two trees that_  
_ grow there, tree of compassion and—much taller—_  
_ tree of pity, its bark more bronze, the snow_  
_ settled as if an openness of any kind meant, as well,_  
_ a woundedness that, by filling it, the snow_  
_ might heal…You know what I think? I think if we’re_  
_ lost, you should know exactly where, by now; I’ve_  
_ watched you stare long and hard enough at the map_  
_ already…I’m beginning to think I may never_  
_ not be undecided, about all sorts of things: whether_  
_ snow really does resemble the broken laughter_  
_ of the long-abandoned when what left comes back_  
_ big-time; whether gratitude’s just a haunted_  
_ space like any other. This place sounds daily_  
_ more like a theater of war, each time I listen to it—_  
_ loss, surprise, victory, being only three of the countless_  
_ fates, if you want to call them that, that we don’t_  
_ so much live with, it seems, as live for now among. If as_  
_ close as we’re ever likely to get, you and I, is this—this close—_

After the initial skim, his deep read yanks something from inside of him that he felt he had long ago securely fastened down. Masaomi feels a tug of emotion, like gold wire being drawn from the furnace, upon reading the last line, something he had kept at bay with cement-heavy determination. _If as close as we’re ever likely to get, you and I, is this—this close—. _

He shuts down that line of thinking and locks that away in the safe where he puts everything else he can't afford to think about. 

"So? Thoughts? Help me out here." Youji gnaws on the end of his pen, and Masaomi finds it far too endearing.

In his reflection, Masaomi starts with the title. He is suddenly struck by the image of a wolf pacing in a cage, its eyes alight with some unnameable feeling. He's seen these eyes. He's seen them blink at him at night, hazy with sleep but alert at the slightest noise. They are gray like the flint that strikes a stone that then lights a fire. 

_"Your hackles are up again, Youji." _

_"I'm just a nervous guy."_

_Masaomi knows military training when he sees it. But he doesn't say anything. He pets the wolf's thick black hair at night until the beast falls asleep. The hackles lower and all is quiet._

"What are _your_ thoughts on the title? Let's start there."

"I think... hm, the title," says Youji slowly, tapping his pen on the paper. "It's like when two animals are in a cage together. You know?"

Masaomi is intrigued that Youji followed the same thought process as him. "Go on?"

Youji looks down at the words and tilts his head. "Because it's this sort of... mutual idea that, well, you've got each other, and if you broke that trust, you're just as screwed as them. Mutually assured destruction. Whereas outside of the cage, you could leave without consequences."

"What cage is the narrator in?" Masaomi asks. He's read the poem several times and thinks he knows the answer, but isn't sure.

"I'm not even sure the author knows," says Youji, frowning. 

"Well, that's poetry for you." 

"He even admits it! Look: _"I’m beginning to think I may never not be undecided, about all sorts of things". _I mean, I get _that_ part. It's like he made this cage himself, with his indecision. He can't go back or forward."

"I think you're getting this poem more than you think you are, Youji."

Youji snorts. "Only because you're helping me. I'm not made to be good at poetry."

"We were not _made_ for anything, Youji. We tumbled out onto this Earth and that's when I decided to rule it. I wasn't _made_ to rule it. It's something I chose and that's not going to change."

Youji rolls his eyes at Masaomi. "You make it sound like you'd be a dictator."

"Who's to say I wouldn't be? I'm a cruel person."

"Don't say that about yourself." Youji lightly swats Masaomi before looking back at the poem. "The narrator is talking to someone. I think that other person knows what's going on. But he's not saying anything."

"Is the narrator's friend undecided?" asks Masaomi. _I’ve watched you stare long and hard enough at the map already. _The feeling crawls out of his chest again, and Masaomi, with elegant skill and practice, crushes it back down again.

Masaomi has stared at the map of him and Youji long enough to ascertain that he can't read this topography. It's unknown terrain. He walks along a thinly built boardwalk every night that stops him from leaning forward and kissing Youji. He wonders if Youji ever stops himself from the same thing. He doesn't know if it's swamp or soft grass or endless ocean if he ever chose to leap off the boardwalk. 

So he stays on, balancing on creaking wood, following the thin line that he knows that ties him to Youji. He's not looking anywhere else but at the darkness a few feet ahead, and at Youji's back. 

"_The snow settled as if an openness of any kind meant, as well, a woundedness that, by filling it, the snow might heal..." _murmurs Youji. "Openness being... vulnerability? Just filling that wound made by being open with snow. Which melts. So it's a temporary fix. The narrator's on some sort of timeline. They can't keep this up forever."

"I don't see that," says Masaomi, sitting down on the bed next to Youji's desk. 

"But look," insists Youji. "_Its bark more bronze- _things are changing, and the narrator is just watching it happen as he sits in his indecision." 

Something claws at the inside of the safe inside of Masaomi's chest. He resolves to get a better safe.

Youji is now looking at him. His eyes are sharp and concerned. "Masa-chan?"

Masaomi smiles. "I think you've got this, Youji. You're smart." 

Youji looks back at the poems. "Only when I'm talking to you." His voice sounds both bitter and appreciative.

In retaliation for earlier, Masaomi gently bats Youji upside the head. "None of that talk. I'm going to get some food- want any?"

"Sure, you probably can guess what I want wherever you end up." Youji waves him off, staring at the poem.

Masaomi leaves Youji's room, feeling haunted by the weight of the words he had just read. 

\---

That night, Masaomi has his face buried in the nape of the wolf's neck. He breathes over the skin as the beast stirs sleepily, nuzzling his face into the sheets.

He wonders who else is in the cage with the wolf. Maybe someone will tell him who he'd be in that cage. That's something he is still figuring out, whether the beast inside him is a wolf or a tiger or a lion or something else entirely. But he knows that he wants to be in this cage with the wolf. Even if the door was open. Even if the wolf wakes up and bares his teeth one morning, hackles raised, angry, scared. The wolf's teeth are covered in blood and he reaches out a hand to wipe it away. 

"I can hear you thinking," says Youji, reaching his hand around to pat Masaomi's face, his voice existing somewhere between being life and dreamscape. "Go to sleep." 

Masaomi huffs out a quiet laugh and squeezes Youji tighter. He doesn't slacken until he hears Youji's breath even out into slumber. 

_If as close as we’re ever likely to get, you and I, is this—this close—_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this correct interpretation of the poem? Possibly not. Will the author come fight me about it? God I hope so.


	4. A Verisimilitude of Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akashi stumbles upon a fanfic that Furihata wrote for the Guns and Flowers fandom, and the plot is... very familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had this in my drafts before umisabaku answered an ask about Guns and Flowers fanfic, so I figured I'd finish and post it!  
(So currently, writing this, we don't know how "This is Love (I've Never Loved so Much)" ends but in my mind it ends happily SO that's where this is coming from, haha.)

"Can you print the tickets for me? I know the concert's not for a few hours but I'll feel a lot better knowing they're already in my wallet." Furihata frowned at the tie in his hands, wriggling it around. It bunched oddly around the top. "Oh, I don't think I did this right." 

Akashi chuckled quietly seeing his partner take off the tie yet again. "I told you I can help, you know."

"_No_," said Furihata, once again attempting to tie the tie. "I will die on this hill. Just print the tickets and hopefully by the time we have to leave I'll have gotten this right. My email should be open on my laptop, it's probably one of the newer emails." 

Akashi took the laptop off of the desk clicked on the email tab. After finding the email and printing the PDF, he was about to close the laptop when he saw a notification of a new email. 

_[AO3] Comment on "A Verisimilitude of Affection" - Archive of Our Own ayyyyait'syourgirl95 left the following comment on A Versimilutude of Affection: YOUR WORK IS SO GOOD, I KEEP RE-READING IT, OH MY GOD_

Akashi was entirely unsure of what to make of this. "Your work is so good"? What site was this? 

If Furihata was writing and publishing something online, why didn't he know about it? 

"Oh no, I've- oh geez," said Furihata, completely unaware of what was going on with Akashi. "Okay, I might have to Facetime Kasamatsu-senpai on this one, but I'm sure as hell not going to you yet about this, Akashi!" With that, he grabbed his phone and headed into the hallway, presumably to go to the bathroom and try to figure out his tie with Yukio on the phone. 

Which was probably for the best, because Akashi, at some things, was incredibly strong willed, but he was weak to the idea of Furihata creating something, especially something that clearly had at least one fan. 

So he clicked it, and then, after skimming the page, it hit him.

This was a fanfiction, which he had heard Furihata discuss in passing a few times with Aya from Seirin at parties - writing based on an existing media. He was familiar with that concept given the amount of Shakespeare re-writes and classics such as Paradise Lost, but he had admittedly never read any of the rewrites based on current popular media. 

But what was the media that Furihata based on this on? Unused to the website setup, he skimmed for a moment only to see - Fandom: _Guns and Flowers (all media)._

A.K.A, the yaoi manga that his father was half of the inspiration for -the other half being the man that was something of a guardian figure during the first three years that Akashi was living on the JSDF base. 

Akashi felt like he was being repeatedly punched in the face by these surprises, but it wasn't until he read the summary and author's note that he really took the biggest hit. 

**Author: PointGuardMyHeart**

**"Summary: After being kidnapped by old foes of Takaomi's, Takaomi pretends that Kouji is his lover to keep him safe. But after a while, the pretense begins to feel too real."**

**"Author's note: Hey guys! I know I don't normally post for this fandom but I am going through some weird stuff and figured, why not project my issues onto fictional characters? This is kind of a military AU where Kouji doesn't know he's queer yet and figures it out along the way, because they're younger in this version, and Takaomi is also in the military. I hope it doesn't feel to OOC, and that I did the characters justice!" **

Akashi glanced at the date the fanfiction was originally posted - about a month after they returned back from their kidnapping at the second Teiko. 

_Going through some weird stuff..._so this was during the time when he and Furihata were still deciding if they truly felt their feelings, and this was how Furihata began to figure out what he wanted. 

Before he could tell himself why this was probably a breach of privacy, Akashi started to read, seeing dialogue that looked... very familiar. He read on, his eyes stopping on specific paragraphs that struck a familiar chord in him.

_"They're going to torture me soon," whispered Takaomi in Kouji's ear. "I might not be myself when I come back. When I come back, it is very important you do not let me forget you, or the rest of my squad. You must remind me of our life outside of here. Do you understand?"_

_Kouji nodded very, very slightly, careful to note the cameras that Takaomi had hinted at. He was also very, very aware of how close Takaomi was to his face when he was whispering, and how, even amongst this terrifying suspense, his voice was like a lifeline. _

_Kouji had no choice but to grab it. _

Akashi had often thought back to the pretense, but he was unsure of how it all seemed from Furihata's point of view. Now, he had direct access to that view. 

_When Takaomi returned from the torture room, he immediately reached for Kouji, who sank into the touch immediately. "Do you just fall for anyone that's kind to you?" Kouji demanded of himself viciously, feeling Takaomi's hands gripping his back, pulling him closer. "Are you that desperate for affection?"_

_But while he has not known touch yet in that sense, he knew that this was something that he clung to in this place. Takaomi had said he was going to protect Kouji, and if this was what he could offer, he would do his best to fulfill his end of the bargain. _

Akashi blinked, feeling slightly horrified. He understood what he was asking of Furihata when they began their pretense, but he hadn't been aware of the turmoil going on with his companion during their time there. While they had discussed it sometimes after, debriefing, he never learned this. 

He should have known of it though - he was able to compartmentalize actions from feelings quite often, as that was his duty as a soldier. He had not considered, at the time, how the pretense could weigh more on Furihata than himself. 

He had known that, as their time in the second Teiko continued, he also fell for Furihata's grace and strength, even though Furihata himself would not call it that. But he did not know when that had started for Furihata.

_"Talk to me," said Takaomi firmly, his head in Kouji's lap, and Kouji spun stories as best he could, telling tales of their squad and the lives they led far outside this horrible place. He stroked Takaomi's hair, admiring the color and soft texture. If it was just them alone in this room, no cameras, and if there was nothing else going on, no one holding them hostage, he might have called this romantic. _

_Surely Takaomi was bored by his words, or distantly thinking of something else, but Kouji was urged on, and eventually he spoke of books. So few other people had bothered to listen to him about books, and he wondered, laughably, if it took being held hostage to feel heard by someone else. _

Then and there, Akashi vowed to ask what books Furihata was reading more often, and read alongside him. He had done so for Furihata's favorite books, but it had been a while since he had done that. He wasn't even sure of what Furihata was currently reading, and he felt ashamed. 

_During the times when they took Takaomi away for torture, Kouji was left on his own, wondering what would come next, if help would ever come. The rest of the squad would surely come. They had to. They were the strongest soldiers he had ever met. _

_But then again, so was Takaomi, and here they were. But when Takaomi said that he was feeling stronger by the day, and that he was thinking of a way out, Kouji put his trust in him. Not even because he didn't have any other options, but because he was beginning to see sides of Takaomi he didn't even know could exist. He trusted not just because he had to, but because Takaomi had the confidence that translated to being worthy of that trust. _

_And when Takaomi told him he was helping him after the torture, and stroked his neck in the dining hall like a lover would, Kouji felt pleased. He liked the feeling of Takaomi's attention on him, the way his spine tingled and his stomach sparked at the other man's touch. _

_And then felt embarrassed at how much pleasure he felt- it's a ruse, it's a ruse, once they were out, they'd go back to their separate lives, maybe see each other at defense force events, maybe not. He'd watch Takaomi go on to have a large and impressive life, and he would simply be there, remembering what it felt like to once be touched by that man. _

_He wondered if he would spend the rest of his life seeking out a love like this, eyes that pierced his heart like Takaomi's did. That quiet confidence that, very briefly, broke after the torture, and then Kouji had never felt so needed and useful. He wanted to keep helping Takaomi after all of this, because it was something now a part of him._

_He wondered if Takaomi felt anything as well, or if he was just that good of an actor. _

_Takaomi could be a magnificent at playing a role, as he had seen, and Kouji realized he'd bought the narrative, even when he was an actor in it himself. _

He couldn't stop reading. 

He never could have imagined this kind of point of view of Furihata's thoughts during their time together - it was like opening a book he'd read a dozen times only to see that the pages had been stuck together, and twice as much information was now being revealed. 

It would have been too dangerous to reveal anything during their time at the second Teiko, but Akashi wishes he could go back. He wanted to hold the scared Furihata then, the one unsure of what Akashi's gestures meant, the meaning behind them. Tell him, "I was falling too. I fell so fast I didn't even know what was going on, but I knew that there was more to my touches than I could tell you."

It had started out as acting, but had turned into their reality, and sometimes Akashi hated how their first gestures of affection were only acting, and when it became real, they had to believe it was acting. He wished he could remake their first kiss, to give Furihata a first kiss he deserved. 

_They were free._

_Takaomi's squad had found them, and the extraction was quick, and in a blur, Kouji went from thinking he would spend another night in the cell, holding Takaomi and telling him of his favorite books, to suddenly recovering in the hospital, and then after that, going back to work at the base._

_He and Takaomi had spoken since the rescue, but he couldn't bring himself to tell the truth of what their time together meant to them. Of how he thought about holding Takaomi's hand sometimes when he saw a particularly beautiful sunset, or he would think, "I forgot to tell Takaomi about that one book, maybe he would like to read it". He'd think these things, and reach for his phone, but held himself back._

_What purpose did his affection serve now? Had he only felt those feelings for Takaomi given the circumstances? He had thought, had it been anyone else he could be texting right now, or holding hands with, or kissing, who would it be?_

_But his thoughts strayed back to Takaomi, and the particular feel of Takaomi's lips against his. It wasn't just any hands he wanted to be grabbed and squeezed by - it was_ _those specific hands. He didn't want to go on about books to just anyone, he wanted it to be Takaomi._

_He hoped that the courage he had found within himself during the kidnapping would serve to lead him back to Takaomi, and that hopefully, Takaomi felt the same as he did. _

"Thank you _so_ much, Kasamatsu-senpai! At Nationals I'll buy you Maji Burger, it's on me, I swear - bye!" Furihata came back into the room, proudly showing off the now perfectly-tied tie. "I did it!! He even texted me some tips, he's so nice- Akashi?"

Akashi quickly put aside the laptop and headed over to Furihata with burning purpose, and kissed him deeply. Furihata shivered, and kissed Akashi back, and for several moments, they were lost in each other, the only sounds either of them could hear being the slide of hands on clothes and their breathing.

"Okay, I clearly need to wear a tie more often," laughed Furihata when they broke apart. "Is that a thing of yours? Ties? I can work with that."

Akashi snorted. "It does look nice, but it's not why." He didn't want to keep it from Furihata that he had found the work and read it by accident - there was too much to address. "Kouki - when I was printing the tickets, you got an email saying there was a new comment on your fanfiction."

Furihata's eyes widened comically, and he froze. "You - you saw that? You - oh god, you didn't-" His voice ended in a squeak and he just stopped speaking.

"It was incredibly well written," said Akashi, gently holding Furihata's shoulders so he couldn't flee (and he could tell Furihata briefly considered that, given how his eyes glanced at the door.) "I could tell that you were writing that about us and our time together. I hope you know - I felt the same, during our time while captive, and I wish for you to know, I fell for you the way you fell for me."

Furihata covered his face with his hands. "Oh my _god,_ I never intended for you to read that. I was just working out how I felt - I mean, finding out you're bisexual while being kidnapped and having to pretend your the lover of your co-captive? It _sounded _like a fanfiction, so I just had to write it like it was."

Akashi kissed Furihata's forehead and smiled fondly at his adorable boyfriend. "Did it help? Writing it?"

Even though his hands still covered his face, Furihata nodded and Akashi saw a smile peeking out. "It... really did. Especially the last part. I was worried I only felt what I felt back there because I had never kissed anyone before, or had anyone listen to me talk so much before, but when we kept texting and I kept thinking about you, I realized that I did want you." 

"And it seems that other people read it," said Akashi. "If the comment is any indication. Perhaps you should write more?" 

Furihata shrugged. "Maybe? It's a really nice fandom, and even one of the biggest fanfic writers in the fandom commented on it and bookmarked it, which is a really big deal. In his comment he even said he could totally see Takaomi and Kouji acting like that and said my plot was really creative." 

"What was his name? Maybe I've heard of him," said Akashi, wondering who this big-name writer in the fandom could be. 

Furihata laughed. "They're all screennames so I doubt it, even if he does write in real life outside of fanfiction. Well, actually, I heard of him first from the Jane Austen fandom because he liked to argue with people about Mansfield Park. His screenname in that fandom was BertramIsAPussy, and then he just kept it across fandoms. His name pissed off some people but honestly, I kind of agree?"

"Admittedly, I'd only be interested in reading your writings- after all, I still haven't read the original text, well, considering." Akashi's face was a picture of distaste as Furihata laughed. 

"Granted, it is a bit weird since it's about your dad. It's not so weird for me since I read it before I knew your dad and Kasamatsu-san, but I get why you haven't read it." 

"That said," said Akashi slowly. "If you have favorite fanfictions for other fandoms - perhaps media I know as well, such as Jane Austen - I'd want to know what you consider good writing and storytelling."

Furihata blushed again. "Well, it is true - you can learn an awful lot about someone from their bookmarks..." 

\---

Bonus:

"I'm glad you could make it to this concert with us, Seijuurou and Furihata-kun," cheerfully said Masaomi as he greeted them at the entrance to the concert hall. "Youji will be here any minute. We have balcony seating, of course." 

"Thank you so much for this, Akashi-san," said Furihata, bowing quickly. "I've never been to a concert quite this nice. It feels like we're at a ball. Which I haven't been to either, actually... you know. like the ones they have in Pride and Prejudice?" 

Masaomi nodded thoughtfully. "They sometimes have them around in Japan. There's a Jane Austen fan society in Tokyo that sometimes hosts them, and you dress up like specific characters. I once was offered to play the part of Edmund Bertram, but I absolutely refused and instead went as Mary Crawford, much to the scandal of the event." 

"Why did you refuse to be Edmund Bertram?" asked Furihata. 

"Because Edmund Bertram is a pussy," whispered Akashi slyly to Furihata, who burst out laughing. 

Masaomi's face froze. "Excuse me?" 

"You cannot possibly be scolding me for language, Father," said Akashi. "I wager you've said such a similar thing in your life."

"I have," said Masaomi. "The _exact same phrase_. Where did you-"

"Oh no," said Furihata, his face heating up. "Oh my god, no no no, you can't be him-" just at the same moment Masaomi gasped, his eyes widening as he put the pieces together, "_PointGuardMyHeart?"_

Not for the first time today, Akashi felt like he was being punched in the face, except this time, it was from two directions. 

"That fanfic... that plot was about you two!" whispered Masaomi, and Akashi was too stunned to even jump in. "Kidnapped... wait, _fake dating_?"

"You're the writer of the longest-running smut drabble collection in the _Guns and Flowers _fandom?" Furihata demanded. "_You_ wrote the smutfic where Kouji greets Takaomi at the door just wearing an apron? That's in _all_ of the domestic fics now. It's one of the biggest headcanons. It is a _defining_ fanon. And _my boyfriend's dad wrote it._"

Before Akashi could respond, Masaomi said slowly, with horror, "I bookmarked my son's boyfriend's fanfic."

Silence fell over the group, only broken by a disgruntled voice breaking behind them. 

"Traffic, what a nightmare!" muttered Youji came up, holding his tickets in his hand. "Hey- wait, what's going on?" 

There were two prolific writers, apparently, in the group, but neither of them had to words to possibly explain. 


	5. lay me down upon your bed of flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hanahaki: the victim, suffering from unrequited love, will vomit flowers until their body cannot support it. The cure is that the object of their affections confesses their love or comes to realize that they love the victim. If not cured, the victim will suffocate due to the flower congestion inside their ribcage."
> 
> Masaomi can't stop coughing up flower petals. 
> 
> (Hanahaki trope, Designation: Miracle timeline compliant)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a special place in my heart for hanahaki (I even have an enamel pin of an image of it on my messenger bag I bought at a con!) because I am a sappy romantic person who also likes a lot of pining, especially when it's mutual but neither knows.  
However! Unlike many hanahaki fics, this one does not end in death. I just wanted to get that out of the way since I know Major Character Death is a huge turnoff for people, including me, so I wanted to get that out of the way first- no one dies!

Masaomi had been coughing up the flower petals for days.

They'd been difficult, but not impossible, to hide. He had managed to convince Youji that he needed to work on exams, and shut himself into his room, desperately searching for an answer. 

"Impossible," he muttered, scrolling through the website that unfortunately detailed everything he was experiencing. It all seemed so improbable. 

How had he not heard about this before? 

_Hanahaki: the victim, suffering from unrequited love, will vomit flowers until their body cannot support it. The cure is that the object of their affections confesses their love or comes to realize they love the victim. If not cured, the victim will suffocate due to the flower congestion inside their ribcage._

"Bullshit," snapped Masaomi, anger rising in his chest, his throat tight-

\- and then he was coughing up more flower petals, deep violet and beautiful.

He was in deep trouble- not just because of what the website said would eventually happen, but because he was coughing up poisonous flowers that, if he accidentally swallowed them back, would kill him.

Wolfsbane. Of course. 

_There's some literary irony here, and I despise it, _thought Masaomi as he kept searching throughout the day for more answers. Already he had been out and collecting ingredients for an antidote, based on his research, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that. He'd been very carefully collecting and stashing the petals away, making sure Youji couldn't find them.

"Masa-chan?" 

Masaomi jerked and turned to the door. He heard a few knocks, and then another, "Masa-chan?"

"Come in!" Masaomi quickly minimized the tabs and shoved the petals into his desk drawer where he was keeping them. 

Youji came in. "You keep coughing. You okay?" 

"It's nothing," said Masaomi, waving his hand. "Need anything?"

"I'm going hiking for a few days," Youji said. "Before the weather gets bad enough that it's not really a good idea." Masaomi had noticed how Youji had been restless the past week - staying inside, cooped up for exam season, had led to plenty of anxious pacing. 

"Finished your lit exam, I suppose?" Masaomi felt the now-familiar tightening in his chest, and began to panic. He couldn't swallow them - he hadn't had time to make the antidote - but he couldn't let Youji see them. "Youji, turn around."

Youji did so, and Masaomi coughed into his hands, beautiful purple petals crowding into his palms, more than before. 

It was worse when Youji was nearby. It was like the flowers were going to choke him until he admitted his love. 

_Bullshit flowers can't tell me what to do_, thought Masaomi furiously. 

"You know, seeing you cough up phlegm, while gross, isn't something you have to protect me from," said Youji, annoyed. "I'm not some delicate flower." 

_Damn right you're not. You had to be wolfsbane, didn't you? _

"I can't have you going around with knowledge that I can look anything but perfect," retorted Masaomi, hoping the bravado in his voice covered up the shaking. "Anyway, have fun hiking, try not to get killed or anything."

"Any particular souvenir you want?" asked Youji. "Also can I turn around now or what?"

Masaomi grabbed the petals in a tissue and stuffed them into the desk drawer. "Yeah, sure."

Youji turned around. His eyes were suspicious. "Maybe I should stay if you're sick." 

"No, I don't want to get you sick if I am," said Masaomi, knowing full well that Youji never got sick. "Go, have fun. Surprise me with the souvenir." 

A beat passed, and Youji kept looking at Masaomi. His piercing eyes seemed to see through him, and Masaomi's chest tightened again. 

_Stop it. Stop looking at me like that. Like you can know what I'm thinking. It terrifies me that you know me so well. I never wanted the looking glass to go both ways. _

"Go before you lose the good weather," said Masaomi, more firmly this time.

Youji held Masaomi's gaze for a second longer, and then said, "Okay. I'll probably be back Sunday night. You won't be able to reach me in the mountains but just tell me you'll go to a doctor if you need to?"

"If I have to go to a doctor I will," said Masaomi, and Youji snorted.

"That's as good as I'll get out of you, probably." With that, Youji gave a wave and exited the room, shutting the door.

Masaomi turned and fell to his knees, coughing into the trash can, his eyes watering at the force of the petals that fell out of his mouth,

_This is bad. _

\----

The next night, it had gotten to the point where blood was coming up with the flowers. 

Masaomi had mixed the antidote, but thankfully hadn't swallowed any petals yet. Which meant that this just was the natural course of hanahaki, and not the effects of wolfsbane.

_There is the option of confessing and seeing if Youji loves you back, _said the traitorous, cowardly voice in the back of his mind. _He does love you, platonically. Who knows if it's more? _

"Nope, shut up," muttered Masaomi to himself. He curled up in his bed, coughing. He was at the point where he didn't have the energy to clean up the petals; they surrounded him, a thick blanket of plush toxicity. 

_He loves me platonically. That is enough, _repeated Masaomi in his head. _That's love. It's enough. That's love. It's enough. _He hoped that would suffice for the flowers to stop. 

_Isn't it kind of pathetic you need love at all? _his brain supplied helpfully. _Didn't it get you in this position? You don't even want him to see you weak. You can't stand to be away from him. You're going to die and it's because you loved him._

He coughed again and curled his head in more deeply, tucking it into his chest. At least Youji wasn't seeing him like this. 

Sleep took Masaomi as petals built up in his chest, creating a flower bed for the gardener seeking peace. 

\----

At that moment, Youji was also curled up, trying to sleep. But thoughts kept nagging at his brain. 

_You should have stayed. You don't get sick. You wouldn't have caught anything. _

_But he didn't want me there, _thought Youji to himself, trying to rationalize why he hadn't stayed. 

It wasn't just a regular sickness, he'd guessed by now. But Youji noticed that Masaomi seemed more stressed when he noticed Youji was there these past few days. 

His stomach clenched with the arrival of an unwelcome thought. 

_Does Masaomi not want me there anymore? _

That couldn't be it. Masaomi loved him. Masaomi was the only person he'd ever known who had. There was very little he was sure of, but the fact that Masaomi loved him was something he held close to him when nothing else made sense. 

The wind picked up and howled at the tent, and Youji pulled his sleeping bag tightly to him. 

He knew that Masaomi was terrible at asking for help. Youji could give all of the love in the world to Masaomi and that wouldn't cure him of anything. He felt like Masaomi knew he was loved, but didn't quite fully believe it. Sometimes Youji wasn't even sure how to quantify what he felt, but it was something. He just couldn't name it. 

Did it even need a name if it was something this strong?

Alone in his tent, no one could hear him, but Youji whispered it anyway, because it felt like he had to say it, or else it'd spill out in other ways. 

"Masa-chan, I wish you believed how much I love you."

The words sounded heavy in his mouth. But he said them, clunky, unrefined, and honest, with the hope that somehow, it'd make a difference, if only just to him.

\----

Miles away, Masaomi slept on, surrounded by a pile of wolfsbane petals. 

What was blossoming in his chest to choke him suddenly stilled, and then faded, crumbling. 

He began to breathe easily for the first time in days.

\----

"You're back early," commented Masaomi as Youji came in the door the next morning, kicking off his hiking boots. 

"Got my fix of being outdoors," said Youji. "Mountains are still there, still looking great, and all of that." He collapsed in a chair at the dining room table. "How are you feeling?"

"All fine now, not that I was ever really sick anyway," said Masaomi, taking a drink of his coffee. "You think a virus could take me out? Really?" 

Youji laughed. "You're right, I forgot, you're invincible." He propped his hands on his chin and said, "Hey. You know I love you, right?" His eyes were wide, bright, and sincere, and Masaomi saw his reflection in the two-way glass. _Stop. Stop. If you keep looking, you'll see things I don't want to show you. _

Masaomi hid his startled reaction by taking another sip of coffee, and then saying, "I do know that." Masaomi put down the cup. "Are you okay?"

Youji shrugged. "Did a lot of thinking on the mountain. Felt bad about leaving you sick."

"I told you, I'm fine. I know how much you need to get out in nature and exercise, or else you start to get stir crazy," replied Masaomi. 

"And I know how much you don't tell me when you're not feeling well," countered Youji. "Let me help." 

Masaomi was weak. He was so weak. "I love you too, Youji." 

It wasn't an answer to Youji's plea, and they both knew it. 

But Youji knew to take what he could get. "I'm off to shower. After, I was going to get something to eat since I don't feel like cooking. Come with?" 

Masaomi got up, putting aside his coffee cup. "Fine by me." 

Youji left, and Masaomi went to his room, checking for errant petals. So far, so good-

"Why the hell are there flower petals on the floor here?" 

_Shit. They must gotten caught on my clothes and then carried out into the hallway._

Masaomi quickly headed over to see Youji holding up a purple petal, thankfully one not covered in blood. "Leftovers flowers from an admirer? What kind is it?" A few other petals were around his feet as well. 

"You caught me," said Masaomi, quickly swiping it out of Youji's hand and gathering the others. "And I didn't bother looking it up. Doesn't matter."

Youji shrugged. "Well, they're certainly very pretty." He shrugged and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door. 

Masaomi quickly searched the whole apartment and found no others, thankfully. He still wasn't entirely sure how he was cured- he figured it was because he convinced himself that he was platonically loved by Youji, and surely that counted as enough to cure him. 

He threw the flower petals away, and buried them beneath other trash as something slithered around in his brain that whispered, _Or maybe he cured you. Maybe he realized something out there, alone on the mountain. But you're too afraid to ask, aren't you?_

Masaomi buried the thought as well, imagining compressing it like the trash. 

When he'd woke up that morning and found himself breathing easily, he hadn't questioned it, and instead just took the healing in stride as he cleaned up the apartment. 

_He loves me platonically. That is enough. That's love. That is enough. _He repeated these words like a mantra as he and Youji left the apartment together. He and Youji talked easily, falling into their easy rhythm that Masaomi had found it hard to be without. It was good. It was nice. 

It was enough.


	6. A Content Canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're little notes sent back and forth between two not-lovers. Youji has become a living postcard, with signatures from the ones he loves scrawled across his chest.   
Youji doesn't mind being a canvas.   
(He likes it. A lot.) 
> 
> (OT4 Happy AU where they are all together, in some sort of formation that works for them.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I adore the OT4 (Hinami-Youji, Youji-Masaomi, Masaomi-Shiori, Shiori-Hinami) so I made an AU I will call the OT4 Happy AU because they are happy together :D Youji-Shiori and Hinami-Masaomi are just friends, they are not dating in this scenario. 
> 
> Basically, around the time in canon when they figured out their feelings for each other dating-wise, I made it so that in this AU, they were like "Hey we should all... do something about this *gestures at the four of them*" I made it so that Masaomi bought them a house/mansion and they all live there, and this story takes place fairly early on when they are still seeing how this could work.
> 
> The inspiration for this scenario with the marking/writing came from my personal experiences in polyamory, combining specific experiences from different partners to make this story. It made me pretty happy to reminisce and write this. :)

They're little notes sent back and forth between two not-lovers. 

Youji has become a living postcard, with signatures from the ones he loves scrawled across his chest.   
Youji doesn't mind being a canvas. 

(He likes it. 

A lot.) 

\-------

It started when Masaomi left a huge, dark hickey on Youji's left pec. 

It was egregiously large and violet, and Shiori cackled when she saw Youji sitting at the kitchen table in just sweatpants, sipping coffee. He normally went shirtless in the house, because he overheated easily, and she knew that had he put on a shirt in the morning, he would have been questioned as to why. This was all deliberate, and very planned by the person (likely gleefully) who left the mark.

"Don't," sighed Youji, putting down his coffee and holding his hands to his face. "I know. I know." 

"You think he knew you have a date with Hinami tonight?" Shiori busied herself with the coffee machine, trying to both rein in her laughter and make sure Youji knew how ridiculous this was. 

"Of course he knew!" yelped Youji. "This is _just like him_." 

Shiori snickered and dumped out the grounds from Youji's coffee blend. It was incredible to live somewhere fancy enough to have multiple varieties of incredible coffee available - one of the perks of dating a billionaire. She had, however, refused the in-house barista, preferring to keep their home life somewhat private.

This entire arrangement was still delicate and new. She wanted to shelter it from the watchful eyes of others for now. 

"If it actually bothers you, you could tell him," said Shiori, knowing full well that she probably shouldn't become the Communication Fairy in this arrangement, but someone had to be the adult here. 

He still had his hands on his face, but Shiori saw the blush there. "I mean... I-"

Shiori shook her head, waving her hand at him. "You don't have to respond."

"Thanks," he said, his hands muffling his gratitude. 

\-------

"Oh _come on_," said Hinami, throwing up her hands. "This is just petty."

Youji shrank slightly against the bed, topless after Hinami had lifted his shirt off of him eagerly. She saw him flinch and quickly said, "No, no, no, I'm not upset at you." She could see he was still on edge, so she climbed onto the bed and held his shoulders. 

"He-" started Youji, immediately jumping into defensive mode, but she shushed him. 

"I'm not going to stop what you two do," she said, trying to soothe him with gentle stroking. She noticed that if he got worked into enough of a state, he lost meanings of words, but he always responded well to being touched. 

She'd learned a lot about him since moving into this house. 

"I can tell him to stop," said Youji, glancing around at anywhere but her eyes. He, of all people, seemed the most nervous about this fragile structure they had created, worried that he would be the one to break it at any moment. 

What she was now thinking about doing wasn't like her. But then again, neither had been moving into this house with the four of them, to start something that felt impossible, but in the end, wasn't. 

Youji looked up at her, finally meeting her eyes. They were soft and trusting and scared. 

She grinned at him, and his eyes lit up with excitement as well as confusion.

"No. I have a better idea."

\--------

The next time Masaomi saw Youji shirtless, he cackled uproariously, gasping and wheezing for breath. 

Youji sighed and folded his arms over his chest. The left hickey had faded slightly from the day before, but his right pec was now glaringly dark and speckled, fresh from the night previous. "Are you done yet?" 

Masaomi grinned and launched himself at Youji, tackling him to the couch. "Not at all."

\---------

Hinami wasn't even sure what to call Masaomi. 

He wasn't her boyfriend (that was for damn sure), and while the term 'metamour' fit ("_A person who is dating a person you are dating_", she learned from the books she managed to find on non-monogamy), not many people knew what that was so she couldn't use it often. She still felt odd even calling him 'friend'. 

Housemate? Yes, although 'mansionmate' felt more appropriate given they all had their own separate apartments within this building. It was rare that they all slept in their own beds, in the end, but having her own space was nice. 

'Rival' also felt odd, though for a brief while, when they had both known they were in love with the same two people, she felt terrified of losing them to him. But that's not how it turned out, and you can't be a rival if you don't intend to 'win' or take away anything from the other person. They were both winning. 

Except lately, this thing with marking Youji, passing him back and forth, felt like a competition, but to no real goal or end. No one was winning or losing, but there was a slight thrill when she sent Youji off wearing her marks to a date with Masaomi. And when she received him back, hickey'd up deliciously so, she felt inspired to keep it going, and couldn't explain why. 

There wasn't a name for it, but it it would have to do for now. 

\------

Sometimes, it escalated to silly heights, as they all got more comfortable with each other. Masaomi once wrote "We're out of barley tea" on Youji's chest, who frowned as he looked down and said, "Do you realize that _you _put in the orders for our groceries, Masaomi?" 

"Yes but Hinami drinks the most of it out of all of us," said Masaomi, ending the tea kanji with an entirely unnecessary flourish.

Shiori burst out laughing when she saw Youji cross the living room shirtless later that day. "Is this what we're doing now? Can you add that we need beef cuts if we're doing grilled meat this weekend?" 

Youji didn't dignify her question with a response and stalked out of the room, huffing. 

Shiori's chuckling quieted as she returned to her book. 

As silly as it was, she was also glad that this was going on. As much as Youji pretended to grouse about it, it meant that Hinami and Masaomi were sharing him, in their own weird way.

\--------

Sometimes, when Youji felt uncertain about what they were doing, he just had to look down at his chest.

It was stupid, he knew. Things were going well, and he didn't have to worry about it shattering at any second. 

But it helped to see the marks across his body and think that not only were Hinami and Masaomi fine sharing him, they passed him back and forth easily. (Which made him happy in a weird, deeply fulfilling way, something he probably should examine further at some point.) 

It was lucky, Youji thought to himself, that he healed so quickly. Within a day or two, the hickies usually faded, and were completely gone by three days, meaning that there was always new room to work with. 

He hadn't realized that it was actually some form of real communication until the day he accidentally ran, by the worst of luck, into Ichikawa again. 

You'd think Tokyo was a big enough city that this wouldn't happen. But it only takes standing at the wrong metro station at the wrong moment in the wrong line for a train car.

"Yamazaki?" he heard hissed behind him with such anger that he immediately tensed and prepared to run (because he sure as shit wasn't fighting anyone on this train platform). 

And then Youji turned and saw Ichikawa's face, disgusted and angry, and he turned and indeed ran, because he couldn't take remembering what he did that day. 

It didn't matter if he got on another car, or even waited for the next train, he couldn't sit still. He had to run. He had to be _anywhere but near someone that had seen him like that._

Which is how he ended up late for his date at home with Masaomi, an hour later, apologizing and stressed and twitchy. 

"What the hell happened to you?" demanded Masaomi sharply, grabbing Youji by the arm and sitting him down on the couch. 

Youji put his hands over his face and tried to breathe. This was stupid, he told himself. Seeing someone from his past shouldn't reduce him to this. He was a trained soldier. He'd be in firefights. Why couldn't he gave up to his damn past? 

_Because if the people I love think any harder about me and what I've done, they'll realize what a monster I am and leave. _

There it was. 

Youji hiccuped a sob into his hands and Masaomi yanked him to his bedroom, shutting the door. He pulled Youji close to him, tightly, and on anyone else it might have felt like a death grip. But Youji needed it to center back to himself, to feel less disconnected from this world and not floating loose in his head. 

"I saw Ichikawa today at Shinjuku station," he managed to choke out. Of all of the people in the house, he hedged his bet that Masaomi would be the least likely to leave him if he thought too hard about Youji's violent actions. 

"Did he try to pull anything?" asked Masaomi, and Youji could hear the plans in Masaomi's head already forming to punish Ichikawa for whatever he possibly could have done.

"No, nothing like that. I just," he hiccuped out another sob and gripped Masaomi's arm. "How the fuck could anyone love me knowing what I did? How do you touch me, how does _she _touch me, how does Shiori sleep less than fifty meters away from me-" 

"Stop that," commanded Masaomi, and Youji did, shutting his mouth quickly. "We've been through this before. He deserved it. Beating up crappy people is a long tradition in human history and you are just another part of that legacy. Everyone who lives with you knows this and loves you." He kissed the top of Youji's head, still holding him very tightly. 

Youji didn't say anything after but cried some more, burying his face into what he was sure was a stupidly expensive jacket but he knew Masaomi wouldn't care if it was him messing it up. Masaomi loved him. 

"Tell me what you need," murmured Masaomi, who started to card his fingers through Youji's hair. 

"I don't know," answered Youji honestly. "Take care of me?" 

Masaomi did. 

Over the course of the evening, in the way one carefully restores a painting, Masaomi delicately and patiently drew Youji out from within himself. 

By morning, Youji was almost completely back to himself. 

"You're going on a date with Himani today, right?" asked Masaomi as Youji curled around his waist, nuzzling his stomach. 

"Yeah. Hiking," he said, burrowing into the warm pockets left behind as Masaomi shifted about in the bed. He made a noise of discontent when Masaomi got up and headed to the bathroom, and made a small cave within the blankets in his partner's absence. 

Masaomi returned with what looked like a black colored pencil in his hand. "Flip over."

"Is this something weird?" asked Youji, who actually was down for the weird stuff but did like knowing what it was beforehand. 

"Not compared to what I have planned for our anniversary," said Masaomi, pressing down on Youji's shoulder blades. "Hold still. It needs to be legible." 

"I don't think colored pencil would work on my skin," said Youji, but he did like the scratchy sensation. It was pleasantly soothing, being written on. 

"It's eyeliner," said Masaomi. "Shiori left it here." He finished what he was writing and then blew on it. "Don't wear a shirt until you see Hinami next but you can shower after she reads it." 

Youji by now had figured out that Masaomi didn't want him reading what he'd written, and while curious, accepted it for what it was. 

And later when he showed it to Hinami, she read it with a seriousness that terrified him slightly. 

But he trusted Masaomi. And her. So he did not ask what it said. 

He had his suspicions though because the date ended up being exactly what he needed, in the ways he couldn't articulate earlier, and he slept peacefully that night. 

\----

"How were you sure he wouldn't look in a mirror to see it?" asked Hinami curiously as she and Masaomi were briefly left alone at dinner while Youji and Shiori fiddled with the grill outside. 

"Fun fact, Youji hates mirrors and avoids them. Notice how there are only mirrors in the private apartments and not our shared spaces? And none in his."

Hinami blinked and looked down, somewhat embarrassed she had never noticed that. 

She had to grudgingly admit, she learned more about Youji through Masaomi than Youji himself. 

"Thanks. For the message," she said, slowly. It was still awkward between them - after all, he was the Devil Incarnate - but being metamours with him meant she and he were tied to similar goals and stakes, and Youji was a very special shared future between them. Masaomi nodded, and looked as if he was about to respond.

But then Shiori came in with the food and they didn't discuss the incident again. 

\--

The marks and notes continued, sent across the house by not-lovers on a content canvas. 

There wasn't a good way to describe what Masaomi and Hinami were to each other, but this was a start of showing how this all could work. 


	7. An Unfortunate Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bodyswap fic.   
That's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I heard someone desperately wanted D:M bodyswap fic (me, it was me) and here I am, providing it (for myself.)
> 
> Timeline is sometime after I've Never Loved So Much ends but with my assumption that it will end happily and Masaomi and Furihata are on "speaking and meeting" terms. 
> 
> This fic definitely could have been longer, deeply exploring more of the individual people involved in the pair swaps, but I think keeping it at its final length was the right choice. Feel free to write fanfic of my fanfic (of a fanfic) though! :D

Friday night, they all went to bed, as it should be.

Saturday morning, they woke up, and things were not as they should be.

\-----

The first couple to realize what happened were Kasamatsu and Kise.

Kise, who woke up first, blearily stretched and actually continued on his day for a few minutes, did not immediately realize the change. Kasamatsu had stayed the night over from college, and they'd spent the night playing video games and hanging out, so he was fairly relaxed and well rested. He padded to the kitchen, drank a glass of water, looked out the window at the street, and put the cup aside to use later. It was only after he returned to the bedroom and looked across the room to stare at Yukio (as he was wont to do until the other boy woke up and then threw a pillow at him for being creepy) did he realize that A. that bed he normally stared at was empty and B. the person in the other bed (_his bed?_) was... him.

Immediately, Kise went into defense mode - it must be a Teiko plant, and if he couldn't see Senpai, they must have taken him. 

"Where is he?" demanded Kise, stepping closer, ready to strike. 

The Kise on the bed startled awake, and then looked at Kise, frowning. "Why the hell are you me right now? I told you not to impersonate me! I swear to God, Kise, it is too early for this shit-"

And that's when Kise looked down. He was Senpai - a body he was very, very familiar being in. 

But he wasn't doing a Copy. He suddenly realized, trying to change back, that he could not. 

And that's when the screaming began. 

\------

The next couple to realize what was going on was Kuroko and Kagami, but since they had stayed up late watching basketball games happening over in America, they were both fast asleep as the sun crept through the windows.

In fact, Kagami didn't wake up until he heard Nigou barking frantically. 

"What time is it... ugh, Nigou, what are you going on about-" croaked Kagami, stepping out of bed- and then collapsing onto the floor as he miscalculated the height from the bed to the floor "Fuck! What the -"

And then he realized that his skin was really, really, pale. Very pale. Was he sick? And why did he feel like the world was skewed? He turned to ask Kuroko if something looked wrong with him, but upon looking at the bed, he realized everything was very, very wrong. 

Because it was him in the bed. 

And that's when the screaming began.

\----

The next couple to realize what was going on was Takao and Midorima, as they had both fallen asleep on the couch, with Ayumi and Naoko on the floor. Ryohei and Nabuko had seen them asleep after creeping in after their date and left them there, because they seemed comfortable enough, and it wasn't a school night. The two boys were slumped on each other, Midorima's glasses having slid down his nose to hang precariously on his chin, Takao's face buried in his partner's chest. 

However, the peace of the morning would not hold, as Takao stirred awake, blinking blearily, and then freezing.

He couldn't see _shit._ Everything was blurry and - oh my god, did he lose his vision in his sleep? He frantically pawed around, panicking, and then realized that his hands were- different. 

They were long, delicate, and beautifully manicured. And wrapped in tape. 

They were not his hands.

And that's when the screaming began. 

\-----

The next person to realize was Himuro. 

Himuro awoke and he immediately knew something was wrong because he could very easily see out of both eyes, as opposed to seeing through his dramatic curtain of sleek black hair that gave him that sexy air of mystery. (That's at least what he was going for, anyway.)

And other thing that was very wrong was that when he lifted his hand to touch his hair, it was the largest hand he had ever seen, and a hand he knew very well. 

Jumping out of the bed, he sprang up and slammed his head into the ceiling, and looked down to see about seven feet of pure, godly muscle.

And that's when the screaming began.

\----

The first thing that Furihata noticed how big his bed felt.

Wait. Bed? Why wasn't he on his futon? 

Was it always this big? Or soft? 

So many blankets. So cozy. 

Huh. Weren't his blankets white and brown. These were a deep, rich red. 

And then several things hit him at once. 

He could hear everything very clearly - such as a gentle clanking down the hall of the people preparing breakfast, murmuring among themselves that they needed to get more eggs before Seijuurou-sama woke, and that Akashi-sama would need a refill on his coffee soon. 

When he opened his eyes, everything seemed so, so, incredibly sharp. And that's when he felt this shiver, this _sense_, like an image of a plate falling in his mind, and shattering, but then it being swept up.

Before he could wonder why he thought of that, he heard the sound of plate shattering, and there was a yelp, and "Oh, no! Let me clean that up - ah! Akashi-sama, I apologize for the scene, I did not see you there-"

"It's no matter, Kiyoko-san, you seem to have it under control. I'll just refill this myself. Is Seijuurou not up yet? The sun's already risen."

"He isn't... we were wondering about that."

And then's when he looked down and saw a marvelously sculpted chest that definitely wasn't his, in a room that definitely wasn't his, and non-bitten nails and beautifully delicate hands that weren't his.

And that's when the screaming began. 

\-----------------------

Satsuki was having the weirdest dream. 

Her own voice was shouting at her. Why was her own voice shouting at her? 

She tried to respond, but the voice that came out was deeper, and startled her awake. 

And then she jolted up to the sound of banging on her bedroom window. 

"Oi, Satsuki! You have to wake up! Now! Now!"

"Dai-chan?" she slurred. It sounded like his tone but not him. She stretched, feeling... incredibly lethargic as she woke. Odd. She was quite the morning person usually. She sat up and then froze. 

Where the _hell_ were her breasts? 

And why did she have a six pack? 

Oh god.

She was naked.

And it got worse. 

She looked down at the pile of blankets that had shifted as she woke, and she saw a key sign that something was amiss. 

And that's when the screaming began. 

\---------

It took a while, but they had almost all of the Tokyo people at the JSDF, and Himuro and Murasakibara on a video call. All but one group who was involved in this mess was there. 

"I've tried to contact Akane-san to see if she can get ahold of Masaomi and Furihata what's going on, but didn't get a response," said Youji. "Akashi-kun, still no word from Furihata?" 

"I'm afraid not," said Akashi, frowning at the phone. "This is quite concerning. To be equipped with Absolute Order and not know how to manage or use it is not something to be taken lightly."

"I'll keep an eye on my phone, and I've texted everyone the video chat link, so hopefully they'll log on," sighed Youji. He looked around the room at the assorted teenage boys, their guardians, and the lone laptop that represented the Akita crowd.

There was a soft 'ding' on the video call, and then, "Hello, Kyoto calling. This is Hinamori Akane. Can you all hear me?" The video screen was just showing a wall, with someone moving around. 

Akashi immediately leaned forward. "Is everything well over there?"

"As well as it can be with whatever the hell is going on," said Masaomi's voice off camera, and then a stumbling and thud. "Ugh."

"There were... incidents," said Akane as she turned the screen around to show Masaomi sliding into a chair, swaying woozily. 

"What the hell happened?" demanded Youji, concerned. 

"It was... an unpleasant series of events," sighed Akane.

"Well, it started with hearing Seijuurou scream- which I have never heard before- so I rushed over to his room, where he looked up and Ordered me to take him 'to his real body' which, not knowing what that was, caused me to freeze," said Masaomi, rubbing his head. 

"An errant Order should not cause you so much disturbance," said Akashi, annoyed. 

"Oh no, that's just the start," said Masaomi. "Then he gave three conflicting orders in rapid succession, and of course I tried to fulfill them all, and that's when Akane-san hit me with a tranquilizer dart, and then Seijuurou kept screaming as I passed out, and then I woke up to my son crying and apologizing to me, which I also had never seen before. Then I started throwing up after the tranquilizer dart, so, as you can see, we have had some issues adjusting to this... change."

"Where is Furihata?" demanded Akashi, growing cross. 

"No concern for your father? Such a lack of filial piety," said Masaomi, tutting. "He is... well, you'll see for yourself, but I'll have you know, he Ordered me to do it and refuses to take it off."

"Take what off?" asked Akashi with growing dread. 

"Furihata-kun, I told you, this isn't my first time being hit with a tranquilizer dart, it's fine," called out Masaomi. "Come over here. You can type out what you want to say. You can't Order someone doing that, now can you?"

Furihata slunk into view, eyes wide and panicked. His hair was disheveled and he was shaking. But what was most notable was neither of those things.

The reactions across the room at the JSDF were varied and instantaneous, ranging from horrified gasps to explosive laughter.

"Oh my god," gasped Kise, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, crying with laughter. "I never thought I'd see the day when Akashi's mouth is _duct-taped shut_. This is the _best_."

"This is _amazing_," gasped Aomine, bending over in his chair, holding his waist as he laughed. "I can't breathe. My stomach hurts now."

"Furihata-kun, that's... very extreme," said Kuroko, concern tinging his voice. 

"Poor Furihata-kun!" cried Momoi, clapping her hands to her face. Youji could not quite get over how odd that looked in Aomine's body.

The laptop shifted as Furihata grabbed it, and frantically typed out in the video chat:

"THIS IS HORRIFYING. EVERYTHING I SAY IS AN ORDER.

I DONT EVEN HAVE TO MAKE IT AN ORDER! IT JUST HAPPENS! 

NO ONE SHOULD EVER HAVE THIS POWER

I AM LIVING IN TERROR" 

"Kouki, we will fix this, but you must calm down," said Akashi, trying to reassure his partner as best he could. "There must be a solution for this." He was pained to see the duct-tape across his boyfriend's face, knowing that he must have Ordered his father to put it on there. 

"WHAT'S THE POINT OF JUST ASKING FOR ANYTHING?

YOU JUST ORDER

AND IT HAPPENS! 

WHAT THE HELL"

"Yes, that is true, but you must calm down and refrain from panicking, because that will only lead you to giving more Orders," said Akashi, feeling extremely helpless. Even if, in their normal situation, Akashi couldn't Order Furihata to stay calm anyway, but being unsettled and out of his body just made everything feel that much more out of control. 

"I'M GOING BACK TO THE BED WHERE I CAN'T HURT ANYONE" typed Furihata, his eyes very stressed and wide, and he vanished from the screen, presumably zooming over to the bed.

"If he feels better there, I'm not going to stop him," said Masaomi. "So, that's how it is over here. How's it over there?"

"Well, we aren't overly concerned with powers losing control with most people," said Youji, gesturing towards the Miracles and their significant others. "Although we did have the incident with Momoi-chan running into walls getting here."

"It's hard not to!" she said, flinging out her arms. "You have to actively choose _not_ to run." 

"Maybe now you'll stop nagging me when I walk faster than you when we're out," grumbled Aomine, who tried to cross his arms but couldn't. "Jesus! These are really getting in the way. How do you deal with these?" 

Sayuri snorted. "Oh this is fun. Maybe you'll learn to respect women more after this."

"Shut it," snapped Aomine, who was still fumbling to cross his arms. "Also, did you work out or something? Everything is... sore." He frowned at his waist. 

Momoi tilted her head, and then, slowly, a grin stole over her face. "Oh. _Oh."_

Aomine stopped fumbling. "What?"

Michiru glanced between them and then grinned as well. "Oh Sacchan _please_ tell me you're about to say-"

"Congrats, Dai-chan!" crowed Momoi, "You're about to get your first period!" 

"_What?!"_

"We need to focus," announced Youji loudly. "You all can figure that out later. Kagami-kun, Kuroko-kun?"

The two glanced at each other, and simply shrugged. "It is odd being taller, but there is not much more to say," said Kuroko. Youji was slightly unnerved by how emotionless Kagami's face as, given how normally expressive he was.

"I had three people literally run into me on the way here," grumbled Kagami. 

"You have to learn to dodge them, Kagami-kun," said Kuroko, somewhat cheekily. 

"Normally they avoid _me!_"

"Okay, so you two are fine," said Youji, moving things along. "Midorima-kun? Takao-kun?" 

Takao shrugged. "I haven't set off his powers unintentionally yet, and I haven't really tried using them anyway. Wearing glasses is weird though. And these dumb mittens." Takao rolled his eyes as he gestured dramatically with the fluffy pink mittens he was wearing

"I have to protect my hands! I can't trust you with them if you don't know what you're doing." Midorima resumed glancing around the room, his eyes darting from corner to corner. 

"Oh, I see you're enjoying the Hawkeye, aren't you?" asked Takao smugly. 

"It is... very useful," admitted Midorima, something akin to awe in his voice. "I believe this is helpful in being able to understand your abilities."

"See! Not entirely awful," said Takao cheerily. "Silver lining and all of that."

"You sure have done a turnaround since this morning when we just heard you screaming for thirty seconds straight," said Nobuko, smirking. 

"After the initial shock I've come to see the possible benefits of this temporary arrangement," said Takao. "Also, I'm super tall and this is very exciting."

"I'm glad you think this is exciting but I am really _freaking out,_" said Himuro from the laptop, panic in his voice. "This is terrifying!"

"It's not so bad, Mura-chin," said Murasakibara, sighing. "You're overreacting." 

"I am _not_ overreacting, Atsushi!" cried Himuro, and he glowed purple. Seeing this, Himuro shrank back and stuck his hands between his thighs. "I break everything I touch! I am Himuro, destroyer of worlds! I already broke two doors this morning!" 

Murasakibara tried to reach out to touch his partner to calm him down, but Himuro skittered away, banging his head a hanging lamp. "No touch! No touch! I'll break you!"

Murasakibara sighed and stepped back, slightly out of view of the laptop now. "Fine, Mura-chin."

"Maybe it's best if you came down to the base," said Youji gently. 

"Oh, that's hilarious, you think I'm moving from this bedroom?" Himuro's voice got more strangled, which sounded increasingly bizarre with Murasakibara's deep tones. "Do you realize that if I walk outside and accidentally run into someone I could kill them? I'm not interacting with anyone until this reverses itself."

"Okay, and if it takes days or weeks to reverse itself? You're going to just stay inside and be miserable?" snapped Kagami. "That's not fair to Murasakibara's body either. And you're going to just ignore him in your body?"

"Easy for you to say, Taiga," said Himuro angrily. "Your powers can't kill people with a single touch!" 

"Again, things we can deal with later," said Youji firmly and loudly. "Himuro-kun you can stay there for now then. Yukio, Ryouta?"

Kise smiled broadly. "This is fantastic! I get to be in Senpai's _real body_. I love it!"

Kasamatsu put his head in his hands. "This is so weird but, granted, it's not like I'm going to cause any damage accidentally with his powers." He paused for a second, and then turned to Kise. "Wait, how are you so comfortable in my body, because you didn't even know we switched at first? You've only had to have been it once or twice because I told you to stop impersonating me before we even dated."

"You told me to not trick anyone into believing I was you," said Kise, now looking rather nervous. "But if they knew it was me then it's okay then!"

Kasamatsu's eyes widened, dramatic and brilliant yellow. "Hold on_-_"

"Okay so you two are doing just fine then," hastily said Youji, and Kise cast him a thankful glance. "So right now our priorities in terms of power mitigation are Furihata-kun and Himuro-kun."

"Satsuki too! She's going to get me killed if she keeps running into stuff," demanded Aomine, pointing accusingly at her. 

"Hey! I know how to control powers!" she said, putting her hands on her hips. "I'll be fine." 

"You all better just stay on base today," said Youji, rubbing his temples. "Try not to accidentally blow up anything. Or hurt anyone. Just play on your phones or something."

"Oh, we could try basketball in our new bodies!" said Takao, clapping his mitten hands together excitedly. 

"Absolutely not, you'll break one of my fingers," snapped Midorima. Takao pouted. 

"Actually, I would like to try a dunk," said Kuroko thoughtfully, examining his hands. "Wow, Kagami-kun, your hands are so large."

"You already knew that!" said Kagami, blushing, which looked incredibly odd on Kuroko's face. "We've got a neighbor watching Nigou, so we can stay."

"He was quite upset," said Kuroko, looking over at Kagami now. "I think he could tell something was wrong. He also was very confused as to what was going on." 

"Yeah, does anyone have any guesses how this happened?" asked Youji, looking around.

Ryohei shook his head. "There has been, to my knowledge, no documented cases of this ever happening. And apparently Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun did not experience this as well, so it cannot be grouped to a Generation Miracle phenomenon."

"Did you not get your lucky item yesterday or something?" asked Aomine, somewhat sardonically, to Midorima.

"Of course I got it yesterday," responded Midorima, scandalized. "It was a green bowl."

"Oh hey, do you still get Cancer items, or should you get Scorpio ones now?" wondered Takao aloud, to which Midorima furrowed his brow and looked extremely concerned. 

"I highly doubt it was that it has to do with Oha Asa," said Akashi, typing into his phone furiously. "Father, could it be Teiko again?"

"Not to my knowledge, this doesn't really seem like them," said Masaomi, also typing away on his phone. "But I can look into it."

"How soon can you get here?" Youji asked Masaomi. 

"I probably need another half hour or so before I can get on the helicopter, so, we can see you in about two and a half hours or so," said Masaomi. "I'll let you know when we're close." With that, he shut off the chat.

"In the meantime, how about you all go to the gym and hang out there," said Youji, pressing his palm to his forehead. "Ryohei, can you go with them? Kids, unless you're cleared by him to play, you're on the bench. Sayuri, you go too."

Momoi looked very excited at this. "Oh I can't wait to play in Dai-chan's body!" 

"It's not all muscle memory, you can't just play like me because you're in my body," muttered Aomine, who bent over again. "_Fuck!"_

"Come with me, Aomine-kun," said Nabuko, sighing. "I haven't had to give a talk like this for a while." She and a grumbling Aomine left the room. 

As the rest of them filed out, Youji spoke to the laptop. "Himuro-kun, keep us updated, if you're not coming down here." 

The response a panic-filled "Sure thing!" and then the screen went back. 

"Not sure he's handling that very well," said Michiru. "Granted, he definitely got the short end of the stick in these transfers. As did Furihata-kun." 

"Let's hope this... blows over or something," said Youji, shrugging. "At least sticking them in the gym will keep them contained for now."

"Good thing for us they're so easily distracted by basketball," sighed Michiru. She looked pensive for a moment, and then laughed. 

"What?" asked Youji, not really following.

"Daiki's first period. Oh, he better respect women more after this...."

\-------

"Masaomi's landed and coming in," said Youji, glancing at his phone. He and Akashi were still in the conference room after everyone else had split off. "Akashi-kun, you might want to-"

But before he finished the sentence, the doors to the conference room banged open, and Furihata burst in, running and tackling Akashi at an alarming speed. 

"Ooof!" gasped Akashi as he was thrown back, crashing into the wall. "Kouki! Careful, you're much stronger now-"

Furihata gasped and backed off, wrapping his arms around himself. He still had the duct tape on his mouth but Akashi thought he heard "I'm sorry" repeated over and over. 

"You two can have this room," said Youji. "Text me if you need me, I'm going to check on the others in the gym."

"Thank you, Kasamatsu-san," said Akashi as the door closed. "Kouki, please let me take off the duct tape now. You can't Order me and you don't have to interact with anyone else but me." 

Furihata looked very concerned but acquiesced after a minute. Very slowly, Akashi peeled the tape back, hating how Furihata's face scrunched up in pain as it came off. 

Admittedly it was his own face, which was very odd, but the expressions were so unlike him and so like Furihata that it wasn't as unsettling as it could have been.

"Did I hurt you?" was Furihata's first question. "I just was so glad to see you, I wasn't even thinking, I'm so sorry-" 

"I'm fine," said Akashi, gently taking Furihata by the shoulders. He admittedly was slightly shaken by how much it had hurt, and was grateful that his own body was able to take hits like that. This delicate feeling was unpleasant, although he knew, rationally, that 'delicate' was not the right choice of word. Furihata was a basketball player on a highly ranked team and was actually stronger than most other people. But the feeling of being shatterable lingered in the fading ache of being thrown into the wall. 

"How do you stand it?" asked Furihata, his voice shaking. "The entire world is just yours to command and if you command the wrong thing, you just hurt people. Everything you say could make someone do something that could how wrong. No one should have this much power." 

"You knew this about my powers before," said Akashi, but he did understand that actually having the power probably was different than being around it and also not actually being affected by it. 

"You have to actively work not to Order someone," said Furihata, horror in his voice. "You could have everyone in the world do exactly what you want, all the time." 

"But I don't," said Akashi firmly. "That's not how I use my powers, and you're not the type to do that either."

"But you were supposed to be," said Furihata. The familiar wide-eyed expression was very odd to see in his red cat-like eyes. "The scientists were just going to let you have this power and run with it."

Akashi chose not to point out that Rainbows existed to nullify that and it's not like he was given much freedom to use his powers for his own uses when he was still in Teiko. But he did understand the deep horror that came along with his power. It was something he still had to reconcile. 

"It's not that way anymore. You know me. I would not use my powers for evil ends." He wasn't sure what else to say - he honestly never expected to face this particular bizarre scenario. 

Furihata hugged him, and Akashi held him, not sure if he was supposed to keep talking or not. 

"I'm glad you're not like that," whispered Furihata. "Thank you for not being like that."

There was surely some way to respond to "Thank you for not taking over the world" but he wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps his father would know. Akashi had suspected had Masaomi been the type; he could have taken over the world. He wondered if anyone had ever said anything similar to his father. 

They sat there in silence until Furihata finally lifted his head and said, "Okay. I'm better now. Thank you." He scrubbed at his eyes. "It's weird being in your body. Your hearing is insane. You see everything so clearly - ah! Seijuurou! Is he with you?" 

"He's here. Just quiet." Akashi had also wondered how that would work, but his brother, upon waking, immediately backed out of the situation and went to 'sleep', which was likely for the best for everyone. 

Furihata sighed in relief. "Okay, good. He wasn't here with me so I worried that he didn't transfer over."

Akashi felt a wave of gratitude once again that he had found someone that not only loved him, but his brother as well. 

"Kouki," he said, reaching out to touch the other's face. "Trust me. We will get through this." 

Kouki smiled (again, something Akashi had never actually seen on his own face, making this seem odder and odder) and leaned into the touch. "Yeah. We can do this." 

\----

"I do have to admit, dunking is quite fun," said Kuroko, running up again to slam the ball in the hoop. He delighted in the way it went through swiftly, and the way he felt when he slammed back into the ground, the shock of the impact running up from his feet to his head. 

Kagami grinned. "Yeah, and it feels even better when you're winning. Too bad we can't actually play a match with everyone's swapped bodies." They had been allowed to practice on their own or do one on ones but after assessing the different bodies and their abilities, it was deemed probably unsafe to do an actual match. Most of the human and Miracles had killed some time messing around on the court but eventually drifted off to other activities. 

"Sergeant Kasamatsu did not find it wise, so we should follow his advice. But yes, that would have been very intriuging." Breathing heavily, Kuroko leaned over, putting his hands on his knees. It took a lot of energy to move this body, he realized. "Should we take a break?"

"Sounds good." They moved over to the bleachers, taking long drinks from their water bottles and breathing out. 

Kagami pushed his hair back, unused to the blue bangs, and then frowned. 

"You didn't tell me they still hurt." 

Kuroko looked over in surprise at Kagami. "I do not understand."

Kagami held up his wrists, covered in the black bands. "The skin is sensitive. It aches when you're doing sports because the sweat makes it chafe and it affects this more than other skin because the scars never got a chance to heal. Am I right?"

"It is something I had become used to," said Kuroko softly. He looked down at Kagami's wrists, which were fairly unmarked, give or take old, faint scrape scars, likely from falling on asphalt from his street ball games back in L.A. "Therefore, I did not see any reason to change or fix it."

"I don't like that," said Kagami firmly. "There's no reason you should just keep living in pain when it's maybe fixable."

"There's no way to fix the scars, Kagami-kun. When it chafes, that usually means I am practicing or in a game, which means that I am happy. I do not think about the pain then." Kuroko turned to Kagami. It was unsettling, to say the least, to finally understand what everyone else experienced around him - there were several times as they all were practicing basketball, before the others left the court, and he genuinely forgot Kagami was there. The thought made his stomach twist. 

What a terrible concept- to be without Kagami. To not know he was there, even if he was.

"I want to talk to Kishitani-sensei about it," Kagami insisted, bringing Kuroko back to the conversation at hand. "I love you, and while there are a lot of things that can't be fixed, scar tissue sensitivity is maybe one of them." Kagami took Kuroko's hands in his. Despite being in the wrong body, Kuroko was intensely pleased to see the familiar fire of Kagami's eyes reflected in his own. "I said I'd take care of you. This is one of the ways I want to do that. Please?" 

Kuroko was still, even after all these years of having a family, and then having a team, and then having Kagami, getting used to the concept of being cared for. It was something he had to practice. This seemed as good a way to practice as any.

"Yes, Kagami-kun. Thank you." 

\---

\--

"I'm going outside," announced Murasakibara about half an hour after the video call to the JSDF. "You're going to need food and I'm getting bored."

"I will never complain about you eating snacks all the time ever again," groaned Himuro. "God, this metabolism situation sucks. You really are just super hungry all the time."

Murasakibara shrugged. He was glad that Himuro had calmed down a bit but it still was difficult for the both of them. "You can learn to control the powers, you know. I did."

"You had years of training. I can't do that super fast." Himuro looked down at his hands. "Isn't it terrifying? For you?"

_I never had a chance for it to be terrifying and new. It was just all I had. Always. _"It was okay." 

Himuro looked at Murasakibara with sadness in his eyes. "Hey. I'm sorry about earlier." He cautiously held out his hand, shaking slightly, and Murasakibara realized he was reaching out to touch him. He gently put his hand on top of Himuro's and squeezed it. 

"You can come with me, you know," said Murasakibara, already knowing the answer, which was, "Ah, yeah, let's not do that quite yet, haha" with the laughter being high-pitched and forced. 

"Keep your phone by you then. I'll see you in a bit." With that he left the apartment, locking the door behind him. 

Holding this set of keys was unfamiliar. These clothes - tight in places he wasn't quite sure why fashion would dictate they be tight. Showing off parts of his body that, if he were himself, wouldn't even consider doing.

And the body itself - Murasakibara obviously knew it quite well, but to be in it was an entirely different matter. 

Everything was so... fragile. 

Murasakibara knew that his view of other people's bodies were incredibly skewed. Not just because of his body, but due to playing basketball, and seeing other tall, strong, and muscled players on a constant basis. And Himuro, compared to the average Japanese citizen, was taller and stronger. 

But wooden floors didn't creak dangerously as Murasakibara now walked on them. He didn't have to duck for nearly as many things. As he slipped the keys in his pocket, he looked at his hands - beautiful and elegant. 

He'd had never known a life as a anything but large. His first memories were of himself towering over others. It was lonely - even other Projects that were terrifying, like Gold and Red, at least had each other. But his body set him apart from the others in his Generation. 

As he walked in the street, he realized how he was now closer to everyone's eye level, he could see the myriad of expressions - hurried panic, leisurely content, joyful laughing. 

He was so enraptured at this new visual level that he didn't notice that someone in front of him had stopped walking abruptly, and bounced into him, falling back, slamming his ass on the concrete. 

_Shit! That hurt! _

"Oh I apologize!" Without realizing what was going on, Murasakibara felt himself being pulled up by the person who had stopped. It was a man, perhaps Kasamatsu-san's age. He seemed fairly fit, which explains why he too didn't fall when Murasakibara crashed into him. "Take care!" And with that the man vanished into the shop he had stopped in front of. 

Murasakibara swiftly cut across the sidewalk to stand against a building and breathe. 

It had _actually _hurt. 

He looked at his hands and noticed one of his palms was bleeding. Shallow, not like a gash, but there was an unpleasant stinging sensation to go along with the lightly shredded skin, now peppered with blossoming red. 

Murasakibara knew that all humans were fragile. He knew that. 

But to feel it was something else entirely. 

The man had just pulled him up, easily, with no thought to it. And, possibly the most intriguing part of all of this, was the absence of fear in the man's eyes when he was pulled up. 

Momentarily distracted by this, Murasakibara resolved to try something. He looked around and found the perfect test subject - a young woman in her twenties, glancing up at the train stations time tables on the wall. He headed over, and she looked up, surprised but not fearful.

"Excuse me, miss," he said, trying to mimic how he'd seen Himuro talk to strangers. "Can you tell me where the nearest grocery store is?" He knew the answer but it seemed fairly innocuous for his purpose. 

She smiled and said, "Yes- go straight here, under the train bridge, and then go left two blocks. You can't miss it!" 

"Thank you!" He bowed and she gave another smile, her eyes lingering on him as he left to follow the instructions. 

Confirmed - people instantly warmed to Himuro when he was putting on charm, and there hadn't been a trace of fear in the woman's eyes at all. 

_To be pretty and delicate... is not so awful_, thought Murasakibara as he headed to the grocery store. He had always struggled with the line he walked between monstrosity and human (despite Himuro's best efforts to quash those notions). To briefly be normal was unexpected. 

But then he thought of his stinging scraped palms and likely bruised body, and the concerns he always had about his Tatsuya being breakable rose to the surface. His breath caught in his throat.

Himuro kept himself safe through his abilities to charm other people and cleverly evade issues. Murasakibara was not built for evasive maneuvers, whether verbal or physical. He would not be able to last long in this body if this continued. His normal methods of protection would not work here. 

He picked out foods absent-mindedly, lost in his thoughts. However, he wasn't hungry, something he was very unused to. He'd had food while they were waiting for everyone to show up for the call, and somehow, over an hour later, he was still sated. 

Incredible. 

_Hm... New chip flavors_, he thought as he paced up and down the aisle, seeing some had hadn't noticed before. Fascinating.

"No, you go talk to him!" he suddenly heard. "I'm too shy." 

"You're the one who pointed him out in the first place!" whispered someone else, and Murasakibara looked in the direction of the voices out of the corner of his eye. Two girls wearing school uniforms he didn't recognize were stealing glances at him, giggling and covering their faces. Murasakibara made eye contact with them, and the one who said she was shy quickly covered her face and darted away, much to her friend's embarrassment. The bolder one sighed and looked over at him.

"Sorry about that!" she said, now that she knew she had Murasakibara's full attention. "Shimizu-chan has a good eye for boys but can't talk to them. It's tragic." She took a few steps closer, laughing. 

The shock of having someone initiate contact with him was suddenly overwhelmed with the concept that someone was _actively moving closer to him._

"Do you go to school around here? I'm guessing you aren't a Toko High student or else I would have hit on you before," she teased, and that's when Murasakibara's brain shut down. 

Getting hit on by strangers was bizarrely frightening. And Himuro would know how to handle it. But Himuro wasn't here to save him. 

"I have a boyfriend, sorry!" Murasakibara said quickly, and the girl's eyes widened. 

"Oh! Is he cute?" 

"Very pretty," he said, trying not to hard to think about how vain it seemed to call the body he was in pretty. "I should get back to him." He grabbed a few random chip flavors and threw them into the bag. He glanced at them - Cappuccino? Biscuits and gravy? Gyro? 

He was unfortunately committed to this and sprinted off, hearing the girl call out for her friend, "He's taken, you coward, you can stop hiding behind the fruit displays now. Geez." 

\--

Kasamatsu stood in front of the mirror in a spare office, where he had promised his dad he would stay as Kise was off at the basketball court. 

He shouldn't do it. Everything was screaming for him not to do it. 

But he would never get a chance like this again. He wouldn't ask Kise to do it, he never asked Kise to transform into someone else unless it was required for their safety, like when Kise traveled to his uncle's funeral with him. 

It couldn't hurt, right? 

He closed his eyes, and thought of her, and how he wanted to Copy her. Her eyes (_his eyes), _her hair, her strong build, the way he remembered her looking at his father, the way she had tucked him in at night. He opened his eyes and looked at his mother's face. 

Immediately he felt a sick twist in his stomach. This was wrong. 

But he couldn't change back. He was frozen. 

She was alive in front of him - eyes shining, wearing her work uniform that he saw her in more often than not. Her dark hair in a plait. Her strong jaw. He heard all of the stories about her, and how his father looked when he spoke of her. He felt robbed of what he could have had with his mother, now just a ghost who haunted their lives.

He missed her so much. Kasamatsu reached out to touch the glass-

"Okay, Yukio-kun, your father said he wants everyone in the gym," said Masaomi, not even bothering to knock and just pushing the door open. "So I'm taking you- _Hinami?"_

Yukio turned, shocked, and Masaomi backed up, his face deathly pale and horrified.

"It's me!" Yukio willed himself to change back, incredibly distraught, and felt his stomach twist. "I-"

Masaomi held up his hand and backed out of the room, looked deeply disturbed. "I- I'll tell Kise-kun to come get you."

Yukio didn't watch as Masaomi left blindingly fast. He just sat on the ground, shaking. 

"Senpai." He looked up to see Kise there, concern in his eyes. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. "I shouldn't have left you alone with my powers."

"I don't even know why I thought it was a good idea," whispered Kasamatsu. "But... I miss her." He wasn't normally this open, but Kise was one of those few that he would let see this. 

Kise sat down next to him and held his hand. "I did it once too."

Kasamatsu looked up, startled. "Who?"

Kise smiled sadly, and Kasamatsu realized he had never seen that expression on his own face before, neither mirrors or photos. "It was after White died. I tried to make it better for Pink but... I made it worse. That's when I decided I'd never do anything like that again." 

Kasamatsu placed his head in his hands. "I don't want this power. I never did."

"I know," said Kise, pulling him close. "I know."

\---------

Satsuki, with the promise that she would be very careful not to go too fast, was allowed go to outside to grab food with Michiru. 

"This feels so weird," she said, touching her chest. "I haven't been this flat since before I was ten!" 

Michiru held back her strong opinions on how fucked up the scientists at Teiko were to give a ten year old large breasts and instead said, "So, how do you think Daiki's handling being in your body?" 

Satsuki laughed. "The last I heard he was in the sick bay with a heating pad and Midol. My cramps aren't even that bad!" She held out her hands, astonished at the size. "It was incredible playing basketball earlier. I felt so fast, and strong."

"Are you ever mad that Teiko didn't give you the strength they gave the others?" asked Michiru, noting how Satsuki was also squeezing her own biceps in awe. 

"I don't know. I do like my real body a lot, but sometimes it felt like I was always being protected when I wanted to be someone that didn't need it. And it's not like I was the only one. White also wasn't strong." She fell into a silence at that, looking down. Michiru saw where that was going and changed the topic. 

"What are you feeling like eating?" Michiru glanced down the alleys they passed. "I haven't had curry for a while. Hm. I think a few blocks down is a place that has some really good pork curry." 

"I'm good for anything," said Satsuki. "Hey, what would you do, if you got switched to someone's body of a different sex?" 

Michiru laughed. "Well, first, I'd take care of business myself, and then after, I'd find-"

Satsuki froze and waved her hands, panicking. "Oh _ewww_ I can't do that! We haven't even - augh, no!" 

Michiru bent over laughing. "You realize that's how tons of people would respond, right? How do you know that Daiki hasn't already tried?"

"He's dying from cramps, I doubt he thinks it's even possible. And it'd be funny if he even could, I doubt he could figure out how to do it," said Satsuki, who started laughing. "Oh my god, he probably couldn't figure it out, even with all of the porn he watches, huh?"

"Sacchan, some don't even figure it out after you show them yourself."

\-------

"Okay, I've done my research," said Aomine, coming into Michiru's office where Satsuki was flopped in a chair in a food coma. He was armed with a tablet and steely determination in his eyes. "We can get you scheduled for a breast reduction and hysterectomy at the same time. Two for one. And because our bodies recover faster than normal you should be good in like two weeks probably. I can take one for the team and do it for you if we're stuck like this for a while. We should do this ASAP." 

Satsuki stared at him. "What are you _talking _about?"

Aomine growled, frustrated, and gestured to his new body, first at his chest. "These hurt so much! And that-" he then gestured at his lower abdomen, "-hurts so much too! This is not supposed to be like this, Satsuki. Life isn't supposed to be your own body constantly attacking you. But look, we can fix it!" He swiped to the WebMD page talking about hysterectomies. "Look, it says you probably should get a bisalpingectomy if you just don't want kids but I say let's throw this whole damn thing out-"

"What if I want kids?" she interrupted him. This was all insanity but that thought in particular just came out of her.

Aomine stopped looking at the tablet and stared at her intensely. "I thought that we didn't want to be a part of that plan that they had for us." 

They had always awkwardly skirted around this topic, given how weighted it was, but now that they were dating they probably should haul the skeletons out of the closet. Satsuki folded her arms and privately marveled at the sturdy muscles there. She would kind of miss being in this body, to be honest- it was strong, sleek, and she felt incredible in it.

But it wasn't hers, and in the end, she wanted her body- even with the questions that came attached to it.

"I don't want to write it off just yet," she said. "Kids, I mean. Not the plan that they had for us."

"Their plan for us was to make more assassins," he said bluntly. "Our DNA hasn't changed, Satsuki. We'd just make the same kids that we would have if we had stayed at Teiko." 

"They wouldn't be the same," she said firmly. "We'd get to raise them. To love them. Maybe they'd have both our powers. Maybe they wouldn't have powers. But the difference is, Teiko would have just taken them away from us then. In _this _world, in this chance we got, we would get to keep them and _that's_ the chance I don't want to miss." 

Aomine looked at her silently. Satsuki gazed at her beautiful pink eyes, long legs, voluptuous curves, and then down at her own temporary form. Two bodies, made for each other, and made to make more bodies. They had the unique burden that none of the other Miracles could quite understand. While some of them would have been involved (and she shuddered to think of that), it would have been mostly on those two, and how the breeding was part of her entire point of existence.

Satsuki thought of it more often than she'd like to admit. When she had a pregnant teacher, she thought of it every time she saw her. When she thought of what it would have been like for her back then, she got panicked, and once even had to leave class, crying in the nurse's office and later also in Aomine's arms.

But then she thought of possibly, one day, the choice she'd make. She'd get to pick the timing. She'd be able to love whatever came out. She'd choose Aomine, and not have him chosen for her. And just Aomine. No one else would have children with her. That, too, was a choice of hers now. 

"I can deal with the periods and the pain if I one day get that choice," she said quietly. "And we have time to make that choice. Not like before."

He put down the tablet. "Okay. Fine. No hysterectomy. But at least consider the breast reduction."

She snorted. "That's rich coming from you!" 

"I don't think I can go back to admiring them anymore! It's insane how heavy these are, and they hurt so much, and _stop hitting me!" _

Aomine's body, Satsuki decided as she chased him out of the office, was much more satisfying to hit him with than her own. 

\----

Being winter, the sun set at five, meaning the dark fell sooner than expected. Takao hadn't even realized how late it was until he glanced out a window and saw the last grasps of fading rays.

"We're going out to get something to eat," said Takao, waving goodbye with a fluffy pink mitten hand. "We'll be back in an hour or so!" 

They left the base to head over to the neighborhood full of food nearby. Takao still couldn't get over his height, noticing how unusual everything seemed.

"It's so different up here!" he crowed, stretching his hands up high. "How's the weather down there, Shin-chan?"

He got a muffled "hmph" in reply, as expected.

"I'm feeling like fried chicken. Or ramen. Hm. What do you think?" Takao realized he was walking without a companion, and when he looked back, he saw Midorima staring at the sky in awe.

Takao looked up. "Damn, must be cloudy. Can't see any stars." 

"No, I can see them," said Midorima, still stunned.

Takao squinted. "Well I can't."

"I've never been able see the stars," said Midorima, sounding like he was very far away. "When my eyesight was... altered, it affected some aspects of my vision. Part of that was seeing stars, I believe, due to the distance and their dim light, comparatively. I had not had a chance to see any before the incident."

Takao's heart lurched. "Shin-chan-"

Midorima shook his head and looked down. "Never mind that. Let us continue." 

"No, you can keep looking. I can wait." He stood next to Midorima and looked over at him fondly. He'd rarely seen such a tender expression of awe from Midorima, even if it wasn't his actual face. "Maybe we can go to an observatory sometime. See the stars through a telescope or something," Takao offered quietly. 

"Perhaps," said Midorima, which Takao translated in his mind as "Please do."

\-----

It was agreed upon that staying overnight at the base was safer than trying to navigate returning home to everyone's separate homes, so they cleared out some barracks being used for storage and did their best to make it work. It had been a long, weird day, and everyone was in varying states of exhaustion by the end.

"So do you think this will right itself soon?" Youji asked Masaomi. They were in his office as everyone was setting up the beds at the barracks.

"Not sure," said Masaomi, frowning. "I did my research but really nothing came up to support this. But if it happened so suddenly without reason, we can only think it would go away similarly." 

There was a moment of silence. "Yukio told me what happened, by the way," said Youji, cautiously. He tried to look anywhere but Masaomi's face.

Masaomi glanced over at Youji, unsure of how to respond, and settled on, "Probably better I saw that than you. I don't think you would have handled it well."

Youji sighed, his face worn, tired. "You know, when I adopted Ryouta, I had already been a parent. But I'm starting to figure out that parenting is just dealing with the unexpected, constantly, and having to respond well each time, because the time you don't respond well, it goes to hell. Except Miracle guardianship comes with superpowers."

"You had a crash course in parenting with your first three, at least" said Masaomi. "I took Seijuurou having Absolute Order as a risk but I didn't expect Furihata-kun to one day have it. Couldn't have planned ahead for that."

Youji opened his desk drawer to reveal whiskey and several glasses. He poured out two and handed one to Masaomi. "To parenting, I guess."

Masaomi snorted but did clink glasses with Youji. "To whatever the hell this is getting fixed as soon as possible."

\----

Takao woke the next morning, stirring sleepily. For a second, he was unsure of where he was. The walls were unfamiliar, and the bed was uncomfortably hard. He briefly remembered everything going on, and blinked his eyes open. 

To a crystal-clear view of the room.

He smacked his hand to his face, probably too eagerly, but didn't feel any glasses. He looked down at his hands - not long, beautiful fingers wrapped in tape, but the hands he'd known forever. 

"I'm back!" yelled Takao, and then the barracks erupted into chaos. 

"Me too!" yelped Furihata. "Oh my god! Yes! Kagami, punch me!" 

"No?" said Kagami, confused and blearily reaching around to find Kuroko. Furihata laughed in glee and ran over to Akashi's bed, tackling him and hugging him. 

"I can't give Orders anymore! This is so great!" As Furihata was nearly sobbing with joy, Satsuki sat up in her bed and cupped her chest. "They're back!" 

Aomine patted his own chest. "It's really nice not being in constant pain." He looked over at Satsuki, frowning. "Oh, good, they're still attractive to me." 

"Pervert!" She hurled a pillow at him, but he swiftly ducked, causing the pillow to slam directly into Midorima's face.

"Careful, Momoi-chan!" he snapped as Youji came into the room, alarmed.

"I heard noise from down the hall-" 

"We're back!" chimed in various voices from in the room, and Youji slumped against the doorframe, clearly coming down from the adrenaline rush of sprinting down the hall.

"Okay. Good. Well then. I'm going back to my office." With that he turned and left. He pulled out his phone to text the Miracle Guardians group chat what had happened, and then submitted a request for leave on Monday because he was too old for all of this sometimes. 

Kagami called Himuro, who answered with just excited yelling. "Okay, so you know. I'm hanging up now." 

He rolled over to see Kuroko blinking up at him. "I see that we are back."

Kagami felt intense joy at seeing his shadow there, and pulled him close. "It's nice to see you. You know. As you."

Kuroko smiled against Kagami's chest. "You as well, Kagami-kun."

\------

Ryohei insisted that they all stay at least until noon to make sure it didn't switch back, but as the time came, it seemed fairly certain that they would be alright. 

"Isn't it so weird we don't know what caused this?" said Satsuki, looking through her phone. "I still can't find anything about possible solar flares, or electromagnetic waves, or anything unusual yesterday."

"I'm going to blame the lucky items," said Aomine, shrugging. 

"I got the right item, it wasn't that!" said Midorima defensively. 

"Father is heading back to Kyoto today," said Akashi to Furihata at the table they were sitting at. "But I will be staying an extra day to spend it with you." 

Furihata brightened. "Yes, that'd be really nice. Is Seijuurou awake now?" 

Akashi tilted his head. "He's actually a bit dizzy from all this. But maybe later tonight, if he's feeling better." 

"Isn't this so weird?" said Furihata, shaking his head. "But in a way, even though it was freaky, I'm kind of glad it happened. I think I understand your powers more, and how much you probably changed since you escaped Teiko."

Akashi again was at a loss of how to respond. "I- thank you." 

Furihata ducked his head, blushing. "Thanks for being nice yesterday when I was freaking out. I hope it wasn't too bad in my body." 

"It is a nice body," said Akashi, somewhat cheekily, hoping to see Furihata's blush deepen, which it gloriously did. 

\----

_(Two days ago....)_

At a studio in Tokyo, potter painted over her already finished bowls. "Red isn't selling," she said to the potter next to her. "But green is, luckily!" 

She painted over the red bowl, covering it in green, and no one would be the wiser. 

After all, what's the worst that could happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Apparently it's spelled duct tape generically but Duck tape (capitalized) as the brand name. 
> 
> Also cappuccino, biscuits and gravy, and gyro are/were all real Lays potato chip flavors, and I will die on the hill that the cappuccino ones were actually good and tasted like a dessert chip. I haven't had those other ones though. 


	8. Aftershock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midorima tries to stop an earthquake, and succeeds- at the cost of landing himself in a coma. In the waiting room and at the bedside, discussions are had, and hopefully, maybe, this will all have been worth something.  
[Midotaka, Parental Discussions, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, introspection, character study, Dealing with Developing Maturity in Relationships]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I hate sad things," I say as I throw a beloved character into a coma.  
Sorry, guys. (But look! Angst with a happy ending tag!)

"Okay, so, he's a point guard, so that means a lot of sideways movements, less jumping... maybe the Adidas Dame series..." mused Aomine as they walked past the store fronts. "What's his size again?"

"Twenty-eight," said Midorima, frowning at the advertisement he was holding that Aomine had given him to study yesterday. "I genuinely cannot see _real differences_ in these shoes that would enhance performance." 

Aomine threw his hands up in the air. "There's - there's _so much _to it all, Midorima, and if you really want to surprise him, you're going to have to trust me. If you get him the wrong shoes for his birthday, that means you don't know his basketball style well enough to get him shoes."

"I am an expert in Takao's basketball style," muttered Midorima, but felt overwhelmed looking at the shoes, even with specific ones circled, which is how he ended up on a Saturday morning with Aomine, who, after receiving Midorima's text of 'Does it really matter which ones I choose?' forced him go shopping in person. "These are mere _millimeters _of difference-"

"Wait," said Aomine, who froze suddenly. Midorima immediately sensed he was being absolutely serious and paused as well, watching the other man closely. 

Aomine dropped to the ground in the middle of the alley, pressing his hands down. "Fuck. I think I feel any earthquake coming."

"Are you sure?" asked Midorima, but he knew that it was part of Aomine's heightened sensitivity and reflexes. The slightest tremble in the ground was magnified to him, and his body was attuned to slight changes in his environment moreso than any of the other Projects.

"Yeah. Shit, I think it's gonna be a big one." Aomine's eyes were wide, and his fingers dug into the concrete, cracking it slightly. 

Midorima had lived through several earthquakes, but they had thankfully been fairly small during his time out of Teiko. Before then, he mused, they were so far below ground and in concrete bunkers, so he didn't really recall dealing with earthquakes then. 

But a big one, he didn't know what to do. Or how many people it could hurt. He had heard of the 2011 earthquake, and wondered if it would be like that. But they had been in Teiko then, shut off from the world. They'd been so far underground, and it had been built so well, he couldn't remember it at all.

But he could help now. He owed it to this new world he had been gifted. There were debts to pay. 

He must try. 

The ground began to shudder to him now, imperceptible to the average human, but a warning sign for him. 

"We should get to open ground _now_-" started Aomine, standing up, reaching out to grab Midorima to run, but Midorima had already made his decision.

"I'm going to stop it." He knelt down on the ground, placing his hands concrete, and exhaled. The advertisement slid out of his hands and fluttered to the ground.

"What?" demanded Aomine. "Holy shit, you _can't_ do that, you can't just- hold an earthquake and make it stop. Are you stupid?"

Midorima wondered that himself. But the die was cast - he felt this drive to do it, and could not stop. He was ablaze with green, his mind mapping out everything deep below him instantly. 

There they were- shifting, groaning, monstrous slabs of rock and dirt, senselessly building up to cause destruction. He could not fault them for their existence, but he felt if he could stop them, he ought to do so.

He grabbed the tectonic plates with his mind, and held them still. 

Blood pounded in his ears as the world screeched around him, the aborted earthquake halting as Midorima seized the plates. His powers outlined what he was 'touching', and he saw the lines, the overlaps, the yawning chasms between the slabs, and gripped them tightly. He had never squeezed anything so tightly before in his life. 

He had never stretched himself so thin like this, and his muscles spasmed, screaming, but he held on, until the ground beneath him submitted to his will, and stilled. He felt Aomine grabbing him, pulling him up, distantly shouting, "Midorima! Midorima! Fuck, I'm taking you-"

And then.

Black.

\-----

The day had been fairly mundane for Ryohei. If anything, it was a little too quiet. 

The second he thought that, he felt a near-rumble beneath his feet. 

Earthquake? But it felt so quick, cut-off. He briefly wondered if they were doing something with the tanks. But that was such a far distance from the med bay that he shouldn't have been able to feel it unless someone accidentally rammed a tank into a wall, and then he probably would have someone in for a concussion or whiplash any minute now. 

He felt the familiar prickle at the back of his neck that was likely anxiety, but he preferred to think of it as a feature, not a bug, and that it meant he probably should prepare for something to come barging through his doors any minute now. He began to set up a bed for a concussion patient, and if it wasn't used, he'd simply set it back at the end of the day. 

It'd been about ten minutes when he heard some banging and some shouts. He hurried outside, wondering if he had been right-

-only to see Aomine holding his son, slumped in his arms, eyes closed, glasses gone. Several other JSDF members were around him, similarly stunned. 

Sayuri came running up, swearing up a storm as she pushed passed onlooking soldiers. "Move your asses- Jesus _fuck, _Daiki, what the hell happened?"

"Idiot tried to stop the fucking _earthquake_ and put himself in a coma!" snapped Aomine, holding Midorima to his chest, breathing heavily. "What do I do?" 

Ryohei snapped out of his stupor and opened the door. "Bring him in here immediately, and tell me everything."

He had never seen Midorima so pale, so slack, so close to death. He looked small and fragile, despite that he was usually neither. 

He looked too much like the bodies of the children brought in by Youji and Michiru when they had returned from Teiko.

But he couldn't think about that now. 

He was a doctor and there was a patient to attend to.

\------

"I felt a rumble but it stopped, so I thought it was something else," said Sayuri as she sat with Aomine near Midorima's bed as Ryohei and Nobuko worked on him. 

Aomine shook his head, his voice a low growl in frustration. "It was _going_ to start, I felt it and then told Midorima-"

"What do you mean you felt it before it was going to start?" asked Sayuri. 

Aomine glanced over at Midorima, laying still, completely out. It looked like he was going to try to say his words carefully, which was unusual for him. "I can feel changes in the environment better than other Projects, so I felt something was off with the ground, and then I told Midorima, and then Midorima felt something too, and by the time he said what he was going to do, he was already doing it." 

"Describe it, please," said Ryohei, his voice tight but professional. 

Aomine shrugged. "He activated his powers, and touched the ground for thirty seconds or so, and then he started to seize up so I went to grab him but he was already passing out before I even touched him. And then I ran here right away." 

Ryohei glanced at his son's vitals. They were not great, and considering how strong most of the Miracles were, that was serious cause for alarm. 

"But he actually stopped the earthquake then," said Sayuri. 

"We can't confirm that," said Ryohei quickly. "It might have been a small one that just stopped on its own."

"I don't think so," said Aomine. "I could sense it - it was going to be a big one." 

"Still not grasping this whole 'sensing' thing, Daiki," said Sayuri. "'I get you're more sensitive to changes in the environment, but you can't quantify an earthquake. That's out of your scope." 

"Call it animal instincts," said Aomine sharply, his gaze fierce, and she locked eyes with him, and then relented, looking away, gritting her teeth. But she didn't say anything after that. 

_Ah. There it was. The words he wanted to avoid saying. _

Ryohei knew that the DNA of the Miracles was tricky, and when he did his early tests on them to check on their health it came out mixed, scrambled. It wasn't all human DNA, and some of the Miracles had more human DNA than others. Aomine was one of the hardest ones to understand, and Ryohei had to piece together that Aomine's DNA was a mix of human but also in large part animal, specifically, black panthers and other felines. He'd also noticed that with Murasakibara's DNA, as those two had DNA mixtures that drew from the most animal sources. 

It didn't mean anything - they were both, at their core, human. After all, Ryohei knew his DNA was similar to chimpanzee DNA, just like every other human at the JDSF base, Japan, and the world. 

But that wasn't by design, nor did it have the implications that twisted the Miracles' self-perceptions. There were some topics that were avoided when talking to the Miracles. This was just one of them. 

"Where are his glasses?" asked Nobuko, breaking the awkward silence. 

Aomine fished around in his pocket and handed them over. "Look, I should probably go and talk to Satsuki. She might have more info on what to do and if this happened with other Projects. Maybe she read something in our files once. I don't know." He looked genuinely lost for answers, but confident that Momoi would know something. "When can I text the group chats?" 

Sayuri sighed. "Kishitani-sensei, it doesn't sound like we have any new developments that will happen, so we can say something now, right?" 

The doctor looked at his patient. 

(The father looked at his son.)

"Sure. Go ahead, Aomine-kun."

\---

Predictably, the group texts blew up with alarmed yelling and concern.

Being the only person who was on both the Miracle Boyfriends Chat as well as the Miracles Chat, Aomine frantically tried to answer as much as he could on both before eventually just telling people to come by the base if possible, he's told them everything he knows and there weren't any new developments. 

But in all of the questions and demands, there was one person conspicuously not responding. 

\-----

Miracle Boyfriends Chat

_Kagami: I'm stopping by the base with Kuroko and Furihata. ETA 20 minutes or so. _

_Kasamatsu: I'm already there with my dad. But we can't go in the room. Kishitani-sensei doesn't want crowding._

_Furihata: Any new developments?_

_Kasamatsu: No._

_Kageyama: Takao, the stupid little notifications say you aren't reading the chat, but it says you're active, so whatever the hell you're doing, tell us. I'm going to keep pinging your phone otherwise like you do to me all the time._

_Kasamatsu: Guys, my dad said that Takao just came into the base. _

_Kasamatsu: Oh_

_Kasamatsu: Oh wow he is pissed._

_\-------_

Takao didn't get furious often. It took a lot to break him. Even after losing at the Winter Cup, it was more of a sad, sinking anger than fury. Sometimes he was annoyed when Ayumi stole his stuff or barged in his room unannounced but those were little, petty feelings. 

But today he was furious. 

"Stupid, _stupid_ Shin-chan," he growled under his breath as he boarded the metro to head to the base, where his boyfriend was laying in a coma, because he tried to stop a _goddamn earthquake. _

He didn't even know Midorima could do that. The largest thing he'd actually ever seen his boyfriend move was a car, because it was blocking a fire hydrant and Midorima was annoyed at the law-breaking and safety risk, and huffily moved the car to another parking spot, where it was then ticketed. Takao had found the whole thing to be hilarious and frequently reminded Midorima that technically moving that car was illegal, probably, in some way. 

Takao was having a hard time conjuring up any joy from that moment. 

He was feeling a lot- a mix of horror and sadness and fear but for some reason, right now, the animal clawing its way out of his chest was just pure, unfiltered rage. And he didn't know why, but he was going to ride this rage out because he didn't know what else to do. 

He wanted to text Midorima, but he knew it was useless. His fingers itched to reach out to his partner, stupidly hoping that somehow he'd get a text back saying, "What are you talking about, fool? Is this a joke?" 

That wasn't going to happen.

His phone was blowing up with notifications but he didn't answer a single one. He hadn't looked at it since he saw the first message about the situation from Aomine and immediately dropped everything to head to the base. 

He walked in and immediately ran into Sergeant Kasamatsu, who sensed the mood and kept an appropriate five or so feet back. "Takao-kun, your mother is in there too, but Kishitani-sensei said it's best if you wait outside for now." Takao noticed that the sergeant was continuing to text on his phone while looking at him, and that also pissed him off, because he wasn't some goddamn dog that was going to bite just anyone in his rage. 

"Mmm," said Takao, to keep himself from screaming.

Why was he so _angry?_ This wasn't like him.

Sergeant Kasamatsu kept an eye on him as he said, steadily, "We haven't gotten any new info. If you'd like to take a seat in the waiting room, you can and I'll let them know you're in there." 

"Sure," said Takao in a clipped voice. 

Where was the gnashing of teeth, the wailing? Every drama he'd ever seen showed the scene of the loved one sobbing by the injured person's bed, absolutely wracked with grief. Where the fuck was his grief? 

_He wasn't injured by accident, he _chose_ to do this, _snarled the vicious, angry part of his mind. _He didn't care about what would happen to him at all. And now he's probably dead and everyone that cares about him is going to be fucked up from grief and he didn't even think about them before throwing himself into danger. _

Something tickled at the back of his mind, reminding him that he threw himself into danger, once, for Midorima, but he rationalized then that he had so much backup, it wasn't likely to actually end in tragedy. That's what he told himself, anyway, when the occasional nightmare sprang up now and again. 

He entered the waiting room area to see Yukio sitting there, scrolling on his phone. When Takao came in and crashed down into a seat, he looked up, and then looked back down and finished a text. 

"There aren't any new developments, I know," snapped Takao before Yukio could say anything.

Yukio nodded and looked back down at his phone. "Kagami, Kuroko, and Furihata will be here in a bit." 

"Hmm," said Takao, not even looking at his phone, but staring at the ground. 

"You know, you're not the first Miracle Boyfriend who had to deal with their partner pushing their limits," said Yukio, setting his phone down. "If you want to talk, we can. I remember when Ryouta was out for days."

Takao knew that, if he were being more rational, that'd be a great idea. He at least still had the grace to say, "Thanks, but I just kind of want to-" he jerkily waved his arm, "-sit here all pissed."

Yukio nodded. "Got it. I'm gonna head out and meet the others at the gate to let them in when they get here." He left Takao alone in the waiting room, with his thoughts, his anger, and hopefully, deep down somewhere, his grief.

\----

Nobuko would like to think she did a good job of raising her son. He hadn't gotten into major trouble, killed anyone, got caught with drugs, or failed any classes. He was a good older brother to Ayumi, and as far as she could tell, a good boyfriend.

Honestly, given what kind of person his father was, she had been pretty glad that none of that passed down through genetics. 

However, this was likely his first real test of dealing with this kind of situation, and she, unfortunately, guessed how he would react.

"Let's go to Kishitani-sensei's office and have a talk," she said, coming into the waiting room to see her son staring at the floor, phone next to him lighting up every few seconds. 

"I'm fine," he said, his words acrid. 

"I don't care how you feel," she said, lying through her teeth as she obviously did care, but he needed to know that this wasn't about him. "_Now._"

Takao looked up at her and his golden eyes were flat and furious at the same time.

_So we went with the anger route. I can work with that. _

The walk back to the office was silent, and as she passed Ryohei, she gestured that she'd be using his office. He nodded and turned back to Midorima, looking over his stats again. 

There was no change.

She sat Takao down and closed the door, choosing to lean against the wall instead of sit in Ryohei's chair. "Alright, let loose. You're mad."

"Of course I am!" he snapped, not at her but again at the floor. "Trying to stop an earthquake? Is he insane?"

"No," she said, calmly. "He's been taught that he's only worth something when he's useful, and he saw a chance to be useful, so he took it."

Takao curled his hands into fists. "We've been telling him that's not true."

Nobuko sighed. She had watched the children come in, stay at the base, and then all parse out to their respective homes. They had grown quite a bit, and the fact that Midorima had a boyfriend, was attached to his younger sister, bonded with his teammates, and looked to his father as a role model (although it was like pulling teeth to get him to admit affection) was incredible. Absolutely astounding from the first time she met the boy and he refused all touch during their attempted physicals and closely guarded all of his words. 

But trauma was ivy curling around a tree, choking it. Just because flowers bloomed didn't mean that there still wasn't ivy to tame. There was always work to be done, and it would never quite be finished. 

"You know what he's been through. Honestly, you know it probably better than his father or anyone else on the base at this point. Maybe even more than the rest of his Generation." Part of the mourning process, she had mused as the children had separated, was them realizing how much they changed at their separate schools and new homes. She wondered if her son now knew Midorima better than anyone else ever had. It was likely, but that didn't mean he also yet know how to handle when events like this happened. "But that doesn't mean you were ready for something like this. Now it's happened and you have to deal with it."

"I am dealing with it," said Takao, gritting his teeth. "I'm here, what else am I supposed to do? I can't go in his room, and it's not like I can heal him or anything." 

"You'll do what every other person who has sat in a waiting room without answers does," said Nobuko firmly. "You wait. You think of what you'll say when they wake up. Or if they don't."

"What's the point of being useful if being killed is the end result? What if I ask him that?" Takao growled, looking up at his mother. His eyes were piercing and wet. 

"Interesting question," she said, meeting his gaze firmly. "Almost like he's been told that his life is disposable to the point where dozens of others just like him were there to take his place if he wasn't useful." 

Takao, for the first time since he entered the room, looked helpless. "I thought- I thought we fixed that."

At this point, Nobuko dragged another chair over and sat it down in front of Takao. She took his hands and held them tightly. Twice now 'fixing' had come up and it left a sour taste in her mouth. "Kazunari, you can't fix a person. No one has ever been fixed by another person. It is not _your job _to fix him - no matter how much you want to, it won't work. That's something he has to work out on his own. You can support but you _cannot fix._"

His anger was dimming, but still there. Which wasn't the worst thing. If he had no anger, that would have worried her too. "Did he even think about what would happen if he died? How it'd hurt us? Me?" 

"I'm not sure he really thinks we'd be all that affected," said Nobuko honestly. "In his eyes, he cares more about us than we do about him. That's the way it's always been for him, so he hides it."

"I know he hides it, but - dammit, I don't know what else I can _do_-"

Nobuko squeezed her son's hands again, because if he didn't get this now, it would set him up for a lifetime of disappointment. "Kazunari. Stop. It is not on you to do anything. You can tell him you care until you're out of breath and it may not change anything. You do what you can but you cannot _make _him do anything. He'll either come to that realization on his own, or, you have to find a path in your life without him." 

Takao tensed. "I'm not going to just dump him over this-" 

"I didn't say you had to. There's still time for him to work this out. He's still young, and so are you." Oh, to be seventeen and willful again, determined to make every last thing work by the skin of your teeth. 

On second thought, it was, at the time, all fairly awful and tiresome, so maybe not really something worth romanticizing. She'd take her quiet, sometimes exhilarating, but always steady relationship she had now with Ryohei. 

Takao put his head in his hands and his shoulders trembled. "What if he doesn't wake up?" he asked, his hands muffling his words. 

Nobuko was at the same time a nurse and a mother. Unfortunately, there wasn't a difference between the answers she would give in the roles. "You won't know what to say until it happens. All you can do is wait." 

\---

"Sorry we're a few minutes late," said Furihata, pushing a plastic bag full of drinks and snacks into Yukio's arms. "When I mentioned to Akashi that we were all headed over, he apologized for being away on business in America and asked me to get these for you all. He's guessing we'll be in that waiting room for a long time."

Yukio took it and gestured from them to follow him to the medical bay. "Yeah. Kise was out for a while when it happened to him, and if I recall correctly, so was Akashi after you all broke out." 

Furihata nodded. "Yeah, you really couldn't tell when he'd wake up. But I was out for a lot of that too so I don't really remember a lot."

Kuroko, per usual, was hard to read but Yukio could read him better than most. "Kuroko? Do you want to say something?"

Kuroko looked over at Yukio, thoughtful. "I am not surprised this didn't happen sooner, to be honest. About half of our Generation, at this point, have pushed themselves beyond reasonable limits with their powers, including myself." 

"What's the total count?" asked Kagami. "Kise, Akashi, now Midorima, and you, I guess..."

"Brown and White as well," said Kuroko simply. "Their story is different, however, their limit-pushing became their end." 

"Let's not say that in front of Takao-kun," said Furihata nervously. "Kasamatsu-san, did you see him?"

Yukio sighed and pushed open the doors to the waiting room to see it empty. "Yeah... but his mom took him away pretty quickly. He was really mad." He was unused to seeing Takao in such a rage, since he normally kept himself light-hearted or, at most, serious and thoughtful, like how he was back when they were figuring out what to do about the other Green. But rage, that was new. 

"Mad?" asked Kagami. "That's weird. I figured he'd be all concerned."

"I wager that Takao-kun did not find Midorima's choice to be a wise one," said Kuroko softly as he settled down into one of the chairs. "And perhaps the only way he could understand how to process his feelings was through anger."

The room fell quiet as the food and drinks were distributed, the rest being put under a chair. Suddenly, there was a ripple effect of buzzes as the group chats were alerted of a new notification. Kuroko pulled out his phone and checked. "Ah, Momoi-san is here. She is with Aomine, Imayoshi-san and Sakurai-san in her office, trying to see what happened with the earthquake. It seems that it indeed might have been aborted after all. If you will excuse me, I intend to join them." He quietly exited the room, quickly squeezing Kagami's proffered hand as he left. 

"So... did he actually stop the earthquake?" asked Furihata when the door shut. "That seems kind of impossible."

"So does mind control and shapeshifting," said Yukio wryly. "It sounds like he did."

"Why though?" asked Kagami. "It's Japan. Earthquakes happen all of the time. We just have to let them happen." 

"I mean, if you had the power to save possible dozens of lives by preventing something, wouldn't you?" questioned Yukio. 

"You only get that one shot though, if you die," said Furihata. "So you either had to know you'd live, or-" He stopped talking abruptly, and then, softly, "Oh."

"I don't think it's anything like that," said Yukio quickly, realizing where that thought was going. "I think... he didn't really think about what would happen to him, probably."

"They really don't sometimes, do they," sighed Kagami. "It's not even that they think they're invincible. It's like the second someone else needs something, they'd rather take the hit."

"For all they go on about fragile human boyfriends, they forget that they're also human too," said Furihata, looking down at his phone. "Like Kuroko said, it sounds like two others in their Generation died from pushing themselves." 

Yukio figured that things were probably different the way White and Brown died, but didn't say anything. He knew he probably knew more than most of the Miracle Boyfriends thanks to his father's job, but some things weren't his to tell. They'd have to hear about it from their own partners. He happened to have gotten the package deal of first-responder father and extremely talkative Miracle boyfriend, whereas he knew that in Takao's case, getting Midorima to talk was pretty difficult, and Nobuko hadn't seen the things Youji had. 

Their phones buzzed again, and it was Kise, who was sending Midorima well-wishes from his photoshoot in Honshu, which he wasn't able to get out of to come by. 

"I mean, it's not like a whole lot is going on anyway, and I know that Murasakibara-kun and Himuro-kun are way up in Akita anyway. It's not like they could do anything if they were here," said Kagami.

"We're not here for Midorima, really," said Yukio, glancing back at the door that led to the room where the Miracle in question lay unconscious. "We're here for yet another Miracle boyfriend who has to deal with the fact that his superhuman boyfriend is, despite all their protests, still in fact, human." 

\----

Ryohei was studying papers on his phone about stress-induced comas as he monitored his son's vital signs. Not a lot useful to be found, but it helped make him feel like he was at least not completely helpless waiting here for any signs of life. 

Suddenly, he was alerted by a soft dinging from the machines. He jerked his head up to see an elevated heart rate, oxygen intake, and-

Midorima shuddered and blinked his eyes open, squinting. 

"Shintarou!" gasped Ryohei, scrambling up. "Stay still - you're at the base."

"Did I-" started Midorima, who then coughed as the words croaked out. 

"Shh, wait," said Ryohei, leaning over and propping him up, holding out a glass of water. "Sip but very slowly."

Midorima did so, keeping his eyes trained on the doctor. There was a moment of silence between them as Midorima handed the water back. While Midorima was drinking, Ryohei had quickly texted something on his phone and then put it away. 

"Glasses?" asked Midorima, his voice cracking.

Ryohei pointed out the glasses case that Nobuko had dropped off earlier on Midorima's nightstand. "They're there on the nightstand." 

Midorima gingerly picked them up with his hands, fitting them on, blinking. He looked exhausted still. 

"Are your powers back?" asked Ryohei, his voice quiet. 

Midorima blinked and looked down at his hands. His nails were slightly scuffed from trying to grip the asphalt. "Yes but... I hesitate to use them right away."

"Then don't," said Ryohei. "Shintarou... once you are ready to talk with me, we need to discuss what happened."

Midorima averted his eyes. "I... can now." His voice was still slightly scratchy but not completely gone.

Ryohei looked at him, assessing if he was pushing himself too much. But it was probably best that they get this done now, so that he could see everyone else sooner. 

Ryohei had genuinely felt like he lucked out in which Miracle he had adopted. Shintarou was polite, wonderful with Naoko, focused, and seemed to be recovering well from his time at Teiko. They had even had discussions on Shintarou's possible future as a surgeon, given how precise he could be and his interest in the medical arts. Shintarou fit in immediately as his son, more than any of the other children could have, and it felt like a natural extension of his family. 

But times like this reminded him that there was a lot under the surface to work through. This was part of his guardianship.

"Shintarou, can you tell me what happened? Aomine-kun filled us in but I'd like to hear it from you."

Midorima continued to look down at his hands. His voice was distant. "We... felt the earthquake coming. I felt I had sufficient energy to hold the tectonic plates together. So I did manage to reach out and grab them, and hold them still." He then looked up and around the room. "Did I... stop it?"

"Yes, from what we can tell," said Ryohei. "But Shintarou, what happened after that?"

"I felt my body seize up, and then, it all went black." Midorima curled his hands into fists. "I apologize for the fuss I have caused. I did not expect that to happen."

"What did you expect?" Ryohei asked, his voice calm. He had gotten good at questioning patients when they were hiding something. This was just a patient he knew very well, which gave him an unfair advantage at noticing his son's reticence. 

Midorima simply said, "I don't know, actually."

Ryohei was taken aback - he almost thought the Miracle would say he expected it to be fine, nothing would happen. Or the opposite, he knew what would happen but chose to anyway. 

"So you acted very quickly on instinct," said Ryohei, trying to understand. 

Midorima shook his head. "No. I had been raised to take orders, not rely on instincts."

"Was it possible you were reacting as such because you were subconsciously trying to achieve something?" Ryohei wondered if this was the right moment to ask what he was about to ask. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe he's going too far. He was never sure how far he could go with nudging Midorima to open up, but if there was any time he'd answer questions, it would be now. "Shintarou, are you trying to atone for something?"

Midorima flinched but did not say anything. But it was a good enough answer. 

"Oh, _Shintarou,_" breathed Ryohei. 

"I have much to atone for," said Midorima shortly. "There's - I can't even begin-"

"There's no atonement left to complete, Shintarou," said Ryohei, specifically using his name - the name he had given the boy - repeatedly to drive the point home. "You are no longer G7283. And even if you were, your actions were not your own. You are not responsible for whatever you did, or were ordered to do."

Midorima's gaze held firm to the ground. He could not look Ryohei in the eye. "I must repay my debts somehow. If I just- whatever I can to do help, I should do. To the highest of my ability. It is only right." 

Now _this_ Ryohei could understand. "Shintarou, let's stop discussing you for a moment. If we only talked about me, could you at least look at me?"

Midorima very slowly turned his gaze to Ryohei, who held back a sigh of relief. 

"Shintarou, I've been a doctor for many years. I've been in various hospitals wards, med bays, and ERs. There is always something to do, always someone to help. If it's not at work, it's people I see on the street who I can tell are suffering but they don't have the money or words to get that help, or family members to support them. My first few years, I ran myself ragged, because I felt young, and healthy, and at the top of my game. I could save the world, if I spent enough time at the hospital, followed up with patients that weren't even my own, and helped out with the sick neighbors." 

Midorima was keeping his eyes steady on Ryohei now, but not saying anything. So Ryohei kept on. 

"I was falling asleep on the metro. I was passing out at the grocery store. I was working myself to exhaustion. Because I felt that if I was helping all of the time, I could somehow be that much more of a force of good on the world, and maybe, that would tip the tides, change something. And maybe it did. Maybe that extra hour I spent with the patient got them out of the hospital earlier, or maybe saved their life. But it was at the expense of myself, and it wasn't until I was unable to get out of bed to go to my shift, my body fighting back at me, did I realize I had gone too far.

Should I have kept going, Shintarou? Should I have died in the pursuit of maximum goodness, of maximum charity? It is my life. It was my choice. I could have kept going. If I had kept working like that, giving without end, I surely would have died that year. Should I have, Shintarou?"

"Of course not," said Midorima, eyes wide. "But- that's different. You've never-"

"As you have never," interrupted Ryohei. "Shintarou. Listen to me. You will never cure the world of all that's in it. You can work twenty-four hours a day, never sleep, never spend time with your loved ones, never play basketball again, in the pursuit of giving good to the world. This will not fill that place inside of you that seeks atonement. That's something that needs to be addressed, and not stuffed with what you hope is validation. There is no body count you are fighting against. If you've been keeping a body count in your head, you have to lose that number now."

"I can't even count them," whispered Midorima, hands shaking, voice fragile. "There were too many. Kishitani-sensei, I wish I could have counted so I could know but there are too many, _I could not count them_-"

"No, Shintarou. There's no counting left. There's no atonement. There is only doing what good you can, up until the limit. At that point you are doing harm to yourself, or to those that love you, you are simply doing harm." 

Midorima looked so lost, and Ryohei longed to reach out and hold him, as he would Naoko, but his children differed in that way. He would reach out if needed, and perhaps that was for Takao to do, later, once he cooled off. Ryohei briefly wondered how the conversation between Nobuko and Takao went, but pushed the thought aside. That was not his concern right now. 

"You are not a _tool _anymore, Shintarou," said Ryohei softly. 

Midorima's eyes looked pained, and he shut them tightly. Ryohei continued, because he knew he was getting somewhere. Even if touching the wound was agonizing, it was necessary. 

"You are not simply something to be used until worn out and replaced. You are a person. Your worth is not in your potential or actions but by merit of your existence. Tools are replaceable but you are a person, and always were. You are not replaceable. You were never replaceable."

Midorima broke. He choked back a sob with tears tracking down his face. "I don't understand how to be anything else." 

"This is a good place to start," said Ryohei, resisting the urge to wrap his son in a tight hug, remind him that his place was in their family, with his Generation, with his team. "I'm glad you found your way to our family. It- it needed you." This was hard, this was so hard. But this was part of parenting, and he hoped he wasn't screwing it up, he was never good at the emotional parts like this-

Ryohei nearly leapt out of his skin when Midorima reached out and very, very cautiously touched Ryohei's arm. He retracted it quickly, and then murmured, "I- I as well, I think, needed your family." 

It was not fixed. Nothing was fixed. But that, too, was parenting - this was another layer on the foundation of building up Midorima to be someone who, one day, would not even consider himself replaceable in any context. 

\-----

Takao came back into the waiting room, his mother shutting the door behind him. He walked in to see the various human boyfriends eagerly discussing the current state of the J-league and their estimates for nationals when they saw him and stopped talking. 

"Hey," said Furihata. "Um... tea?" He picked up a bottled green tea from under the chair and held it out. 

"Thanks," said Takao, plopping down in a seat and unscrewing the cap. "You guys can keep talking, you know, he's not dead." 

"I mean, we can talk about basketball, or we can talk about-" Yukio gestured, "-you know, this." 

Takao took a drink and let himself sit for a second before saying, "I don't really know what to talk about in regards to.... _this,_" he said, gesturing similarly to what Yukio had done.

"When Kuroko was sick after he used his powers a lot back with the whole Jabberwocky thing, he kept telling me it was fine, but I can't tell if they actually can assess if they're fine or not," mused Kagami, digging through the bags noisily. "Given they've got this pretty skewed idea of what's 'healthy' or not."

"Yeah, Ryouta didn't know what using his Perfect Copy would do to him but he did it anyway," said Yukio. "He was out for a while, and then pretty weak after."

"Akashi told me he knew what would happen but did it anyway," said Furihata. "I remember in the couple seconds I was still awake after being shot, he just looked so determined, like he didn't even care what would happen." 

"From what Aomine told me, Midorima was the same way when he said he was going to stop the earthquake," said Yukio. "We kind of don't get why, though."

"Guilt," said Takao, tonelessly. "He feels guilty about what he did in Teiko."

"I think they all do," said Furihata, quietly. "At least, I know Akashi does. Especially when we visit the Second Teiko kids. He doesn't talk about it a lot but... I can tell." 

Kagami shrugged. "I know they do, but, there's nothing they can do about it. That's in the past, and it's not like they were given any choice. And they aren't going around killing people now."

"Well, he thought he could do something about it," said Takao, gesturing out to the door where behind lay his comatose boyfriend. "Who knows how big that earthquake could have been. We could have had another 2011 on our hands."

"That's not on him to stop though," said Yukio. 

"I know," said Takao, sadness settling over him like thick black crust over magma. His heat was dimming. He felt cold. "Don't think he'll believe me if I tell him that."

"At this point, I've found that talking to them doesn't really get it through," said Yukio wryly. "You just have to enforce it with your actions, and by showing up when they need you. Anything else is on them to figure out." 

They sat there in the silence for a while, passing each other snacks and checking their phones when they buzzed. Eventually someone piped up about the previous basketball conversation, and then it drifted from there for a few hours until a noise garnered their attention. 

The door opened, and Nobuko stood there, her face lit up with joy. "Kazunari-"

Takao jumped out of his seat and blew past her, and she shouted, "Wait- oh dammit, he's too fast," and sighed. "Well, yes, Shintarou-kun is awake, and his vitals are reasonable but not back to normal yet so we're keeping him here. He won't be seeing many people but he will have access to his phone once Kishitani-sensei thinks he can handle the stress. Please text everyone that." She shut the door to go find her wayward son. 

"I got it," said Yukio, already tapping away on his phone. "Crisis averted, it seems."

"I don't know, I got the feeling earlier that Takao was going to rip Midorima a new one," said Kagami doubtfully, taking a swig of Pocari Sweat.

"I remember being frustrated with Ryouta too after he woke up but in the end I was pretty relieved he was awake at all," said Yukio. "So I am guessing Takao's going through the same feelings." 

"Well, they're going to talk now, I think," said Furihata, looking at the door. "So we'll find out how mad he is when he comes out." 

\-----

Ryohei was still talking to Midorima, although now more about banal things, as he measured more vitals when Takao burst into the room. He wordlessly stared at Midorima, and then glanced at the doctor, and then at the vitals, and back at Midorima. 

"I'll take my leave now," said Ryohei, removing the blood pressure cuff. He walked over to Takao and pulled him outside briefly, whispering, "Be... kind, if you can," he said, very quietly, even though they both knew that Midorima's enhanced hearing probably picked it up anyway. 

"Mmm," said Takao, eyes still looking past the door. Ryohei joined Nobuko as she came up, panting. 

"I made a son that was too fast," she said, straightening her uniform. "Well?"

"I think Shintarou is understanding more," said Ryohei thoughtfully. "But... I don't know for sure. I guess we'll know in time."

"Same with Kazunari," said Nobuko, shaking her head. "The roller coaster of emotions.... You couldn't pay me to be seventeen and in love again."

"What about in your forties and in love?" asked Ryohei, who then blushed at his own boldness. 

She smiled. "Oh, well, that's just fine." 

\------

Takao shut the door behind him. He stared at Midorima for another second, and then came closer to the bed. "Can I sit next to you?"

"Of course," said Midorima, who was so, so tired, and drained, but desperately wanted to be there for Takao. "Takao-" 

Takao sat down forcefully in the seat, shocking Midorima. It was silent for a second, and Takao laid his forearms on the bed, not touching Midorima, and placed his head in his arms. He was still for a moment, and then began to tremble, and, like a dam breaking, began choking out sobs.

Midorima was stunned, and his hands hovered uselessly over Takao, helpless. "Takao - please,"

"You could have died," said Takao, muffled, his voice cracking. "You could have died and I would have just been there, alone-"

"I'm so sorry," said Midorima, his voice shaking. "I- I wasn't thinking-" He reached out and awkwardly placed both of his hands on Takao, who jerked up at that. 

"Can - can I hug you?" asked Takao, the last word choked off as he hiccuped out another sob. His golden eyes were rimmed with red, and they looked so wide and vulnerable. 

"Yes, of course, please-" said Midorima, the words spilling out messily. Takao threw himself at Midorima, briefly forgetting about how you probably shouldn't do that to recently recovered coma patients. He hugged his partner tightly, tears streaming down his face, and he thought, _Oh, this is what all the movies go on about, where I'm just so overwhelmingly grateful that everything else kind of gets pushed to the side. _

It was probably important that he didn't forget the root of his anger, though. "Don't _ever_ do something like that again," breathed out Takao. "I don't want to lose you. _We_ don't want to lose you. You did a stupid thing." There was venom in his voice, tempered by grief, but still sharp. 

"I know," said Midorima, his voice heavy. "I spoke with Kishitani-sensei-"

"You spoke with your _father _about it," corrected Takao, who, despite his firm words, had has face buried into the crook of Midorima's neck. "Your father who had to see you in a coma because you tried to reverse an act of nature. Someone who loves you a lot, and would have to go home and tell your little sister that their big brother died today because of...." Takao struggled to find a word and settled on, "_hubris."_

For the first time since he'd woken up, Midorima felt an emotion other than crushing guilt and exhaustion. He snorted, asking, "Hubris? Really?"

Takao gently bonked his head into Midorima's. "I feel it's the right word. Deal with it." He sat back and wiped tears from his ears. "Shin-chan... I don't need to give you all the reasons why you don't have to do things like this, right?" 

Nodding, Midorima said, "Yes, Kishi- ah, my father spoke to me about it. I don't think I can understand and change entirely overnight but I can tell you, I will try. I promise."

Takao looked very thoughtful at this. "Okay. I'll take that. I'll hold you to it though. I'm not dealing with shit like this again. It was bad enough sending you off to the Second Teiko to save Akashi and Furihata, but you didn't really have a choice there. Now, you have the choice of nearly dying or not. I want you to choose not dying every time, please." 

Midorima felt a bit of panic at 'not dealing with shit like this again'. "Is this... a last straw sort of thing?" He wasn't sure how else to phrase it, but he needed to know if he was walking on eggshells after this - one more mistake and he was out.

Takao sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "I don't want you to be super careful around me like if you mess up one more time I'll dump you. That's exhausting for the both of us. I'm willing to work with you but I also need you to know that when you hurt yourself, it hurts me too. And hurts your family, your team, and your Generation. Part of the bargain of getting all of us was that you stay with us, because we 'got' you too. When you get people attached to you, there are consequences like these." He dragged his hands down his face. "I also may be talking complete horseshit. My mom said it a lot better than I could have."

"What did your mother say?" asked Midorima, curious. He respected the nurse quite a bit - after all, she was one of the few adults who hadn't shown fear when handling them on the first few years at the base. 

"I'll tell you one day. I'm also processing it so I'll get back to you on if I'm making progress or not. I was really pissed when I got the news though. She heard the brunt of it, and you better thank her for that one day." He set his hands down on Midorima's bed and looked up at his partner. God, he was so lucky to have him back. "I'm okay. We're okay. Do you think we're okay, Shin-chan?"

"I... hope so," said Midorima, still a bit terrified. 

Takao sighed and reached out to touch Midorima's face. "Hey. I love you." 

Midorima's chest tightened and he closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to deal with the overflowing emotions coming from his eyes, blurring Takao's face. "I love you too, Kazunari." 

Because his eyes were closed, he wasn't prepared for the onslaught of a very tight embrace and , "You can't just- _say things_ like that with your _mouth_-"

"How else am I supposed to say them?" demanded Midorima, disgruntled. "Fine, you can pretend I didn't say anything-"

And then Takao was sobbing again, and Midorima tensed, afraid that maybe he'd gone too far. But he didn't have to worry, because it turns out that when Takao pulled away, he was laughing and crying. 

"Are you - alright?" asked Midorima, bemused. 

Takao wiped tears from his eyes and said, "I'm- just coming down from a lot of feelings. But you signed up for having a human boyfriend. So this is what you get." 

Midorima was immensely fond of the man before him. He hadn't fully known what he was signing up for when it first began, but he was certain he wanted to continue signing whatever it took to stay with him. "Yes. It is." 

They talked a little while longer, and then Takao realized something that he hadn't really focused on in the beginning, but was now annoying him. "Why were you hanging out with Aomine anyway? Didn't really think you two were close like that."

"We are generally not," admitted Midorima, "But he is an expert in what I was seeking."

"That's incredibly vague and naughty, Shin-chan. Should I be jealous?" Takao laughed at Midorima's horrified expression. "Oh man it was completely worth the awfulness of saying that to see your face. But really, you owe me. Come on, tell me..."

"Very well then," sighed Midorima. "I was going to get you basketball shoes for your birthday, and Aomine is quite skilled in these things, so he told me in order to get the best kind for your playing style, he had to come with."

Takao blinked at that. "You willing went shopping, with Aomine, which are two things you have bitched about in the past, just to make sure I had the right shoes?"

"It's also vital to our team that you be well-equipped," stammered Midorima hastily, but Takao was grinning widely and nuzzling up to Midorima's face. 

"Awww, you _care_," Takao said, his voice joyful and mischievous. Midorima's resolve crumbled as he blushed and looked down. 

"Of course I do," he muttered what he hoped was very quietly but not enough. Takao tilted his partner's head up and kissed him, softly, for the first time since this all happened. 

"I'm glad," he said softly, the joy still lingering in his voice. "I'm so glad you care."


	9. Foreseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Dragon, a Wolf, a Fury, and an Oracle all talk in a temple.  
Surprisingly, no one dies.   
[Ancient Greece/Oracle OT4 AU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to state 100x over that this is *loosely* inspired by Ancient Greece/the concept of Oracles, and when I say loose, I mean it. For example, I sort of made the Furies into more of a species/race of harbingers of vengeance, and super winged it with how an Oracle tells the future.   
Also, dragons who can shapeshift into humans exist here.  
Have fun with *gestures* whatever this is!

"Will you harm the Oracle, or bring about ways to harm her in the future?" asked the Fury, her steely gray eyes fiercely staring at Masaomi, who did not back down in the slightest. 

"I will not harm the Oracle or bring harm to her in the future," said Masaomi, smiling. His sharp teeth glimmered in the lamplight, and the Fury did not look pleased.

"Do you know what I am?" she asked sternly. Her hand gripped her spear tightly.

"Someone in my way to get to the Oracle," said Masaomi, speaking casually like a man who did not know fear. Youji tensed, and glanced at the Fury, whose eyes widened.

"You intend her harm, I know it," said the Fury, and her wings unfurled behind her, the winds caused by it lifting their cloaks up and blowing them back. "Every moment you spend speaking makes me think that this is some trick of yours."

"Masa, let's take a step outside," said Youji, gently but not gently pulling on Masaomi's arm. "You know, cool off, think reasonably, not piss off a harbinger of vengeance?" 

"Nonsense, Youji," said Masaomi, smiling still. "She's aching for a fight. Does it make you feel like you're doing something when you block people from seeing her, Fury? Do you know a prophecy spelling her doom and are trying to save her from it? Is it me? How could that be? I'm just a little dragon."

"'Little' dragons don't exist," snarled the Fury, and Youji noticed with alarm that her nails were digging indents into her metal spear. "'Little' dragons don't wipe out entire armies in ten minutes."

"Of course they don't, he was with me too," said Masaomi cheerfully, and Youji winced. 

"That did _absolutely nothing_ to help-" hissed Youji, but then the Fury turned on him, glowering.

"_You_ were there too? I heard the stories of the man alongside the dragon who can battle for days without stopping, sleeping, or eating. A monstrous beast of blood and violence. That's _you?_"

Youji flinched. "They were invading our lands. The emperor asked us to stop them." He didn't like being reminded of what he did. He just did it, because he was good at it, but that didn't mean he liked doing it. He just didn't know what else to be. He only felt okay with himself when he was with Masaomi, and if that meant going to war, then that's what happened. 

"Which, circling back, is how we got this audience in the first place," said Masaomi loudly. "Scootch, please."

The Fury looked at Masaomi with both deep disgust and anger. "'_Scootch_'?" she snarled, her wings flaring out broadly, and the room became violently windy. Youji looked behind him, calculating how quickly he could hurl Masaomi out onto the steps of the temple and then take them both far away, hopefully faster than the beats of a Fury's wings. He also tried not to be distracted by how wildly beautiful she looked in her righteous anger. That was not helpful to his calculations. 

"Hinami, calm yourself, my dear," said a voice from back behind the curtains, and immediately the Fury stopped beating her wings and instead turned instantly around, her face alarmed. 

"My Oracle! Stay back-"

The Oracle waved her hand at Hinami, languidly, looking up at her through her veils. She was dressed in heavy layers, the only visible aspects of her face her eyes and nose. Youji noticed that she moved very carefully, stepping in odd patterns to get across the floor. She moved delicately, and when she reached the three of them she did not hesitate to step up and stand face-to-face with Masaomi, tilting her head up to look him in the eye. 

"I have never had a dragon come seek my Truths," said the Oracle, reaching out and touching his face. He stiffened, but did not do anything further. "What can I tell you that your own kind can't?"

"Let us go back into the Oracle's chambers and discuss that there." Masaomi's voice changed to serious instantly, and the Fury stared him down, unsettled by this mood shift.

"If you think I'm going to let you go back there alone with her-"

"Ask him your questions again, with me here, and I will judge those answers for myself," said the Oracle firmly, and the Fury sighed. 

"Fine then. Dragon, will you harm the Oracle, or bring about ways to harm her in the future?" 

"I will not do either of those things," said Masaomi, now with less bite than before. He now seemed intent on meeting with the Oracle, and less on harassing the Fury. 

"And you?" snapped the Fury to Youji, who blinked. 

"... no? But I'm not going back with her. I don't have any questions for the Oracle." 

"You and the dragon were both granted court with me by the emperor," said the Oracle, tilting her head. "Are you giving up this chance? Many men would cheerfully kill for a glimpse into the future."

"He can have my question," said Youji, shrugging. The Fury stared at him, confused. 

"Are you simple?" she asked, dumbfounded. Masaomi burst out laughing, and Youji frowned at him.

"Rude, Masa. No, I just think he'll ask better questions than me." 

The Oracle continued to look at Youji, and he felt very dressed down, as if she could read his mind. "I see. Well, you may remain here with my Fury while I speak with the dragon - Akashi Masaomi, was it? And you are Yamazaki Youji?"

"I prefer just Youji," he said automatically, fidgeting. "But sure, I'll stay here."

"Is this wise, Oracle?" said Hinami, her voice stressed. "If he does anything back there-"

"Then your oath of vengeance bids you to destroy him," the Oracle said, cutting her off. "Hinami. I will be fine."

"I mean, can't she tell that by seeing the future?" asked Youji helpfully. The Fury turned to him with the look one gives a very stupid goat blocking the road. 

"Do you know anything of how the Oracle works?" she snapped. 

".... no?" 

"Hinami. I will not be in harm's way." With that, the Oracle put her hand on Masaomi's arm. "Come with me, dragon." 

"Try not to get into any trouble," called Masaomi over his shoulder to Youji. 

"I could say the same to you!" yelped Youji but they had vanished behind the curtain. "Ugh."

"What could have possibly aligned you with one of the most feared dragons in the world?" demanded the Fury. Youji tried not to stare at her too much, but it clearly wasn't working because she frowned and pulled her wings back in, straightening her armor self-consciously.

"Oh, we just found each other and haven't really separated since," he said, trying to sound casual. "So, uh.... working for the Oracle, that's cool."

"I am duty bound to her. My soul is inextricable from hers. My life is merely a tool to serve her will." 

Youji unfortunately had no idea how to respond to that besides with, "Oh... neat. That's a close bond. Sounds nice."

The Fury once again looked at Youji with utter bewilderment. "What _are_ you?" 

"Confused, mostly." He tried to change the topic. "So how long have you been, uh, soul-bound to the Oracle?" 

"None of your business. You're a demi-god, aren't you? I heard from other Furies that were there that you slaughtered whole ranks without taking a single hit. An untouchable ghost of war." 

"That's a lot of exaggeration," said Youji modestly. "Masaomi did a lot too. You know, with the fire and all. So, do you have any recommendations on sights to see in this city? Or is the only one you?"

The Fury narrowed her eyes. "Are you... hitting on me?"

Youji smiled, pleased. "Yes! Is it working?" 

\-----

"Your wolf is giving my Fury a heart attack," said the Oracle as she motioned for Masaomi to sit on the cushions. "She is not used to the attentions of men when she is at work. Very few are bold enough to approach her, but yours seems to enjoy the terror." 

Masaomi settled down into the cushions, looking up at the Oracle as she sat upon her marble throne. "My wolf, you say?"

"One of the wild wolves created by Ares to be half man, half beast, never sated by their lust for blood, cursed to roam the earth with their pack. Except this one's not with his pack. He's bonded with a dragon instead." The Oracle took a goblet off of the table next to her and filled it with deep red wine. "Curious how that happened, isn't it?" She handed it to Masaomi, who took it but did not drink it.

"Quite interesting," said Masaomi, who had known exactly none of that and filed that information away for later. "Do you know why I am here?"

"I have my suspicions," she said. "But do share."

"Very well." He looked around at the temple. It was very beautiful. He liked destroying beautiful things, like geometrically arranged armies or elegant cities, but he felt that some things were even sacrilegious for him to ruin. Also, it would be impolite, and in his human form he strived to at least act like a well-mannered citizen, despite the burning dragonfire inside of him. "Do I also get Youji's question?"

"Yes, as he granted it to you," said the Oracle, and while he could not see her mouth, he heard the smile in her voice. "He trusts you quite a lot, doesn't he?"

"We trust each other quite a lot," said Masaomi. 

The Oracle looked at him for a few seconds, and Masaomi fidgeted beneath her gaze. She pulled aside her veil, just enough so that her mouth was visible. She then leaned forward. "I work differently than other Oracles. You will ask me your question, drink a sip of wine, and pass it back to me. I will drink it, judge your question, and answer if it is worthy."

"I have to prove my worth to you?"

"No," she said. "I am judging how much you value my answers." 

"Get a lot of stupid questions then I assume?"

"I often receive questions of self-validation from high-ranking men who seek to praise themselves, or confirm something they already know. Or they ask foolish questions with arrogance and react with rage when they are told the truth."

"And thus enters your Fury."

The Oracle smiled. "If I do not take care of matters myself first."

Masaomi leaned forward, very intrigued. "Oh, do go on."

"We can have idle discussion after," said the Oracle. "Now, continue. Your first question."

Masaomi swirled the wine and breathed in its scent as it rose up to meet him. "When will Youji's past come to find him?" He took a sip and then held it out to her, meeting her eyes. He noticed she did not seem surprised by his question.

She took the wine to her lips, drank, and then set it down. She held her fingers to her lips, coating them in the wine, and then held up her hand, watching the rivulets go down her palm, and then her arm. She glanced over it for a moment, reading the lines intensely, and then said, "Within the next year. Before the next harvest-time, for sure. There's no running from it, in any case." She picked up a cloth from her table and wiped her arm down. She held the goblet back out to him, and he took it, mouth set in a thin, angry line. "That answer does not please you."

"It's not your fault he's got something hunting him down. It's more of a feeling that I've had, anyway, nothing that he's ever told me." Masaomi looked down into the wine. The dark, blood-red liquid shimmered in the torchlight. "Fine then. Will he and I be strong enough to survive it on our own?" He sipped and held it out to her. 

She took the goblet back and drank once more. She pressed her fingers to her lips, and sighed as she pulled away, wine flowing out of her mouth to spill down her arm, splattering onto the floor. 

"That's not a good sign, I wager," ventured Masaomi. 

"It is not," she confirmed, taking the towel and wiping down her arm. "Bloodbath." 

"It seems you have judged my questions worthy," said Masaomi, propping his chin up on his hands. His mind raced with this new information, and he resisted the urge to dash out to the entryway to the temple, scoop Youji up, and fly them away to another continent. But the Oracle said there would be no running from it. And so, he stayed.

"Admittedly I wasn't sure what to expect from you. I've heard the stories of the Dragon of the East. And even more mysterious ones about your companion." She stood, securing her veil once more. "But your questions were not asked in arrogance, pride, or vanity."

"I have much of those things in great quantities, I assure you, but yes, these questions were of a different sort," he said, and she laughed for the first time since he'd met her.

He wanted to make her do that again.

"Dragon of the East-"

"Please, call me Masaomi."

She flickered her eyes up at him. They were dark, and he wondered if she had seen anything else in her truth-telling. "Masaomi... if you would like to join me after the temple bells ring tonight, that would be most agreeable."

"It would be, wouldn't it?"

\----

"So, how did it go?" asked Youji as he and Masaomi left the temple. 

"I'll fill you in later when we get to the tavern," said Masaomi. "And then I'm meeting the Oracle back at the temple once the evening bells toll."

"More questions?" Youji thought they only were granted two, but maybe she answered more freely in her off-time.

"Who knows? Well, I suppose she would, actually... Anyway, did you manage to seduce the Fury, or will you have to give up on her immediately since that would be a _terrible idea?"_

Youji sighed. "She was not seduced. I am wounded."

"Good thing you heal fast," said Masaomi cheerily as he slapped Youji on the back. "Anyway come back with me to the temple tonight and you can get a glimpse of her looking like she wants to kick your ass, which is your favorite kind of woman apparently." 

"I can't help that I like them strong," said Youji indignantly. "And you too, you liked the Athenian warriors for example. You've no room to judge, you've laid with at least half a dozen of them." 

Masaomi thought back to the Oracle's delicate steps and intense, probing eyes. Strong in a way that he was curious to find out more about. "Hm, I suppose you're right."

\-----

"Did you refuse his questions?" asked the Fury, standing in the Oracle's chambers. "Did he try anything?"

"No, his questions were reasonable and entirely about his companion," said the Oracle, kneeling on the floor to clean up the spill from earlier. "They definitely weren't positive answers, though, they've got a storm ahead."

The Fury frowned. "What possible enemy could take on a dragon and - well, whatever Youji is?"

"Oh, so you're on a first name basis with him, are you?" teased the Oracle, standing once more as she finished her wiping. 

The Fury immediately flushed and shook her head. "He refuses to give me any title so I have to call him that."

Saying nothing, the Oracle surveyed her cleaning and put down the cloth. "Well, they are coming by again tonight."

The Fury narrowed her eyes. "Why?" 

"Masaomi was entertaining, to say the least. But I also feel that if two men like them are threatened, we should also be aware of what is to happen. After all, in dark times, the gods may fall silent, and I will be powerless." Her eyes looked up to the ceiling, not in awe or worship, but rather as if she was trying to search the heavens for answers, beyond the stone above her. "At least with knowledge, I'll have some power."

"And me," said the Fury. "Shiori, you won't ever lose me." 

The Oracle stepped closer to the Fury, reaching out to touch her arm gently. "Of course, Hinami. You will be my strength as well." 

She hoped it would be enough for whatever was coming their way. 


	10. the desert is quiet but it is not asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Youji watches Hinami spar and wishes he could be more like her.  
Masaomi watches Youji and wishes he didn't feel.  
Shiori watches Masaomi, trying to assess what he actually feels.  
Hinami is only looking forward.  
[Light in Dark Places AU, umisabaku's original novel]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is an OT4 AU based off of umisabaku's original work, Light in Dark places, which you can see how to get [here](https://umisabaku.tumblr.com/post/190246284544/new-chapters-up-for-dm-fanfic-drabbles-collection). (Scroll down in the tumblr link to see umisabaku's comments) I highly HIGHLY recommend you do buy it, because it is all of the good writing and character development and careful plotting you love from Designation: Miracle except this time there's Mysterious Magical Things afoot as well. And then leave a review on Goodreads or Amazon after. :D )  
  
However, there's no need to read it first before you read this, as for this short fanfic, all you need to know is that an Ash is a magical power that develops uniquely to each person. It's activated with a short phrase, which in the book is bolded and italicized.  
  
Sometimes Ash powers can leave people with animalistic markings (feathers, fangs, scales, etc), which carry a stigma of not being "as human" as other people.  
  
The world is under attack by the Misery/Beasts, and the military base where this takes place is working to fix these problems.

"Watching Hinami-senpai _again_?" asks Masaomi, sliding up next to Youji. He leaned on the guardrail, casting a glance over the training grounds below. "Have you not already entirely memorized her attack patterns?"

Youji scowled and half-heartedly punched Masaomi in the arm. "Shut up, I'm focusing on - _oh._" 

Masaomi watched as the tall, built woman kicked away an 'assailant' (in reality, one of her classmates wearing the white jersey that denotes them as the enemy) and then immediately whipped around to thrust one away with her quarterstaff.

"Yeah, yeah, poetry in motion," said Masaomi. "How's your arm?"

Youji didn't even turn away from Hinami. "It's mostly healed. I told you, I heal fast."

"Good genetics, yes, I know." Masaomi, per usual, held his tongue. He knew genetics. He got to know them quite well doing his second Ph.D on them. He had his suspicions about Youji's genetics. He was about to say something else when he heard Hinami yell, "_**Protect the weak!**_"

Youji exhaled in awe, and something that Masaomi dared not call jealousy gripped is stomach and twisted it. 

On the floor below, all of the assailants in the room turned towards her, and immediately attacked, leaving the other 'good guys' on the floor alone. In a wild whirlwind of quarterstaff and fists, Hinami swept the floor with the attackers, and a buzzer rang out, signaling the fight to be over.

"What an amazing Ash," said Youji, starstruck. "I wish I had one like that."

"Yours is good," said Masaomi. "Don't sell yourself short."

Youji snorted. "Oh, right, I forgot, my Ash of 'going into a primal fugue state and beating the shit out of everyone around me' is a wonderful, amazing Ash. You know, the kind that makes every human terrified of me."

"Bold of you to assume I'm terrified of you."

"Bold of you to assume I count you as human." 

Masaomi laughed. "You're right. I suppose I'm not." He feels the scales on the soft skin of his underarm rub up against the fabric of his long shirt, and taps his fingers along his sleeves in thought. 

Youji's eyes widened. "Oh - I didn't mean it like _that -_ I was talking about-"

"My genius intellect? Why you flatter me."

Youji groaned. "I was trying to be nice - you realize, when you call it that, people hate you?"

"You don't hate me," pointed out Masaomi. 

Youji smiled sadly and tapped his slightly elongated canines. "Bold of you to assume I count as people."

"You just said about my effects-" sharply started Masaomi, but behind them he heard a firm, "Cadet Yamazaki! A word!" A man strode towards them, his uniform denoting that he probably deserved more attention than Masaomi felt like giving him in the moment.

"Kobayashi's calling," said Youji. "See you tonight at home?"

"Yeah," said Masaomi as Youji headed off with Kobayashi. 

"So, now that he's gone, I'd love to hear your thoughts on Hinami's power," said a soft voice from behind him, and he turned to see a woman he was vaguely familiar with based on his observations of the higher ups on base. He'd seen her a few times from afar, but it was definitely her. 

"Nakahara Shiori," he said. "What do I owe for the pleasure of this question?" 

She tilted her head. "Hinami's a friend of mine, so I'm curious what the gossip between The Dragon and The Wolf is. I heard his opinion - so what's yours?"

Masaomi felt like he was playing a game that he only knew half the rules of, and, per usual, that sort of thing thrilled him. "She uses her Ash in a noble and selfless way, of course." 

Shiori smiled, and Masaomi felt like she should have been baring her teeth when she said, "_**Truth emerges from its well.**_"

Suddenly he felt like he was choking, and something was clawing out of his throat. He coughed, and before he realized what was happening, he spluttered out, "Using her Ash like that will get her killed and that's martyrdom, which is useless."

Shiori leaned against the counter. "Not a fan of martyrs, are you?" 

Masaomi ignored that and instead grinned at her, connecting the dots. "Oh, you must be the special recruit who gets to skip combat training and instead scares the shit out of everyone at council meetings." 

Shiori laughed. "Me? Why be scared of me? If they're afraid of the truth then perhaps they're the problem, not me." 

Masaomi propped his chin up on his hands, looking down at the fascinating woman in front of him. "So you heard my opinion of Hinami. Let's have you assess my friend's Ash then."

"_Friend_? Aren't you two dating?" 

Masaomi waved his hand, as if to brush the thought away. "Simply rumors. We just live together, that's all. Roommates."

Shiori raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I do believe I asked the wrong question. Do you _want_ to be dating?" 

Masaomi remained silent, and then drew a zipper across his mouth, smiling, Shiori laughed, a small, pleasant sound. "Oh, you've learned, I see. I can't force the truth out unless a falsehood is spoken first. You've already found my limits, Akashi Masaomi." 

"I highly doubt that," said Masaomi. "Now, for my question."

Shiori looked down at the training grounds where Hinami was resting against the wall, chatting with some of the cadets that swarmed her after her demonstration. "I can see he admires Hinami's power a lot because it helps others in a selfless way. I think he hates his power because it's so violent, even though, in the end, they achieve the same ends. He also doesn't like that his Ash is something he can't entirely control when it's activated."

"You seem to know quite a bit about Youji," says Masaomi. 

"You attend enough council meetings to hear which new cadets are the special ones. I saw the video."

Masaomi could control his reactions enough to not flinch, but he did bite his lip. "Did you now?"

\--

The video was security camera footage of Youji defending a group of cadets from Beasts who had come close to the base. The video starts with Youji shushing the other cadets, telling him to stay in the car as he gets out. The Beasts advance, and Youji's mouth moves to say something, his expression resigned.

The footage did not have sound, but Masaomi knew what he said. 

"_**The wolf wakes**."_

** **

** _\---_ **

** **

** **

"It's an impressive power," said Shiori. "I can see why they shared the video with the council - after all, how many cadets could take down six Beasts on their own?"

"And it also made the entire base terrified of him," said Masaomi. "He doesn't hurt people, he isn't someone to be scared of. I'll defend him on that until I die."

Shiori observed him again, and then said, "Your Ash is compatible with his, I assume?" 

"We haven't had a chance to really test it, given what our Ashes are. It wouldn't be useful outside of an actual battle."

"What was yours - _**dragon's breath ignite**_? Is it true, the fire doesn't go out until you command it to? That you could just keep someone on fire forever?"

Masaomi tsked his tongue. "Now, now, Shiori, you seem like a smart woman. Isn't that just rumors?"

"Rumors, like the ones saying that Youji is your paid mistress living with you in special housing off of base, even though cadets are assigned to dorms?" 

Masaomi looked over Shiori with renewed interest. "You know, I'd love to hear more of these rumors of yours. Possibly over dinner sometime?" 

\------

Youji curled up in his bed, thinking over Lieutenant Kobayashi's conversation with him. It was not a pleasant one to repeat over and over in his head, but there it was. 

"_They want to assign you to a special task force. You've got some excellent potential."_

_"You mean, they just want to keep me away from regular cadets because they think when I'm using my Ash I'll just attack anyone."_

Youji, not for the first time, desperately wished he could be someone whose Ash wasn't terrifying and wild. Someone like Hinami, whose Ash was something beautiful and noble and brave - ah, wait, he was just describing Hinami again.

(Or even a power like Michiru's. He recalled seeing a fellow cadet try to harass her into fighting him, to prove that he could, when she simply looked up at him and said, fluttering her eyelashes, "_**What a pretty flower!" **_ When he leaned forward, eyes glazed over and enamored, she punched him in the face and then kicked him in a very pointed place.) 

He sometimes wondered if a compromise might be Masaomi's power- it was deadly and powerful, the creation of alchemist's fire within something or someone, burning them from the inside out- but so controlled that Masaomi even would use his power to sometimes make carvings out of wood with the carefully controlled fire. Youji envied him. 

Youji, more often than he would like, became a thing of envy and want. 

But he was exhausted from the day, from training and hard conversations, and fell asleep, the same words ringing again over and over in his mind.

** _Protect the weak._ **

** _Protect the weak. _ **

** _Protect the weak._ **


	11. Lies and Libel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Miracles and Boyfriends find themselves in gossip magazines, much to everyone's delight and/or horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, this is actually one of the first ideas I ever had for D:M fanfics, before I even finished the series!

"Kagami-kun?" said Kuroko as Kagami entered their apartment, dropping his bag near the dining room table. "I have a question for you."

"Yeah?" asked Kagami, taking off his shirt as he thought longingly about the shower he was going to take after the sweaty street game he had just played. 

"Why are you leaving me for Aomine-kun?" 

Kagami froze and turned to the couch, where Kuroko's face was hidden behind a magazine. "_What?_" 

"It'd just be polite to tell me, Kagami-kun," said Kuroko, who flipped around the magazine to reveal a picture of Kagami and Aomine embracing in their basketball jerseys - likely an ill-timed shot from a recent game where they had at one point crashed into each other and awkwardly fallen to the floor. 

But the headline read "LOVE IS A GAME TO WIN - AND HE'S SWITCHING TEAMS" 

"What the fuck does that even _mean?"_ said Kagami, aghast. "Kuroko, you know I'd never-" 

Kuroko's ghost of a smile flitted over his face. "I suppose all of the Miracles are the same to you, Kagami-kun? Perhaps I was just the most easily accessible one who happened to go to Seirin?" 

Kagami, now sensing he was being trolled, sighed. "Can I take a shower first before you inevitably show me the rest of that shitty magazine?" 

"Of course Kagami-kun. But you should know that apparently I found solace in the arms of Momoi-chan, and she is with my child."

"I've now decided I'm going to drown myself in the shower, thanks, bye," said Kagami, heading out of the room and as far away from that magazine as possible. 

\-----

"This is _amazing_," crowed Takao as he held the magazine. "Oh man they really went to town on you guys didn't they?" 

"Well, when the last Miracle turned 18, they could write about a lot more stuff, so..." Himuro gestured at the magazine. "We have now a cornucopia of gossipy trash." A few others were spread out on the table at Maji Burger, where some of the Miracle and Miracle boyfriends had gathered before seeing some of the professional basketball games in Tokyo.

"'Switching teams'? Wouldn't I still be gay if I was with Aomine? That's just shitty writing," grumbled Kagami. 

"I mean, they weren't aiming for any literature awards here," said Himuro, pointing at the garish titles such as "A DIFFERENT SHADE OF BLUE FOR HER" and "WHAT POWERS WILL THEIR BABY HAVE? READ HERE TO FIND OUT". 

"I think we'd have a cute baby," said Momoi cheerfully as she flipped through one of the magazines. Aomine looked like he was about to have a small aneurysm. 

"I agree, Momoi-chan," said Kuroko, clearly in a troublemaking mood, and Aomine growled, half-assedly trying to wrestle the magazine from Momoi.

"Why are we even reading this garbage?" he snapped, and gave up as Momoi clutched it to her shirt, swatting at him.

"Shin-chan! A secret affair with Akashi in Kyoto?" gasped Takao, clutching his chest and throwing a dramatic look at his frowning partner. "What if _I_ was with child? Would you take me back?"

"This is absolute nonsense, I wasn't even near Kyoto on that date they said," huffed Midorima, glowing green and pulling the magazine out of Takao's hands, who firmly grasped it and was dragged towards Midorima, his chair screeching on the floor. 

"Oh I'm not _ever_ getting rid of this, Shin-chan, they've got a lovely photo of you in a yukata underneath the cherry blossoms with Akashi. They must have Photoshopped him to make him look like he was having a romantic moment, which, as we all know, is unrealistic."

"Hey!" said Furihata indignantly. "Akashi is very romantic!" He peered over Takao's shoulder at the magazine, and then gasped. "What-! That was a date Akashi and I went on! They just Photoshopped me out!" 

"Oh my god that's why Midorima looks the same height as Akashi!" said Takao gleefully. "Okay, I'm definitely keeping this forever- no, Shin-chan, that's mine!" 

Midorima quickly floated the now cut-out image to his hand, which he quickly crumpled. "It's a falsehood and should not be spread around, Takao." 

"Guys! Guys! I found another one!" said Kise gleefully. "Oooooh, this is very juicy!" He threw down the magazine that had a full spread picture of-

"Oh my _God_," choked out Kagami as Aomine screeched "What the hell?", and Kuroko actually put his hands on his face, clearly having a struggle to stifle his laughter. 

"TWO'S GOOD BUT THREE IS A SLAM DUNK" said the headline showing a image of Kuroko pulling Aomine down by the shirt and Kagami by the necklace, all with sultry looks in their eyes.

"Someone _please_ read this aloud, I can't because everything is blurry," cackled Takao, who was bent over and actually crying. 

"Unable to be sated by just one superpowered lover, Kagami Taiga fell into the arms of Aomine Daiki. A source close to them said, 'I've never seen Kagami so in love, so deeply. It's as if doubling his love doubled his passion.'" Himuro, grinning widely, looked up at Kagami. "Taiga, I want you to know, I wasn't this source, but I genuinely hope to meet them one day."

"There isn't a _source_! This is all made up!" yelped Kagami. "I would never date Aomine!" 

"Hey, I'm an excellent boyfriend!" snapped Aomine. "You and Tetsu would be lucky to have me." 

"I love where this is going," sighed Momoi, sneaking away the magazine for herself in her bag. 

"Hey guys, this one says that Murasakibara's got a - well, I don't think that's actually a quite accurate measurement," said Himuro gleefully. "Wow, they are off by like, two inches." 

"Too high or too low?" asked Takao, and Himuro simply smiled. "Ah, got it."

"Kise, every single magazine says you're dating a different model," said Furihata, flipping through them. "Not a single one says you're with Kasamatsu-senpai." 

Kise frowned. "That's rude! Senpai is clearly superior to all of the models they put me with. I should send them pictures of Senpai instead."

"I get the feeling he wouldn't want to be involved in this," said Himuro. "Oh, speaking of which, it looks like more rumors about Kise's dad and Akashi's dad are in here. Something about Youji-san being Akashi-san's concubine in college?"

Furihata coughed and said, "Uh, hey guys, we probably should get going before the games start. Everyone else is already there." 

Busily stacking the magazines, Momoi gathered them up into her bag. "Keeping these for research!" 

"Hey, if any of the websites have pictures of Shin-chan-" Takao started, and Momoi gave him a cheery thumbs up. "Yes, thank you, I owe you a big one, you are a shining star."

"Momoi, do not send him any photos of me you find on these libelous websites," ordered Midorima, to which she stuck out her tongue.

"Kagami-kun, does this actually bother you?" asked Kuroko as they threw away their trash. 

"No, it just seems like a dumb waste of paper, honestly," he said, shrugging. "Besides, isn't it already weird enough without being made up? Superpowered boyfriends?" 

"I suppose you're right," said Kuroko, reaching out to hold his hand. "I will take you back, but we have to raise Momoi-chan's baby together. It only seems fair."

Kagami did not dignify him with a response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The exact image I picture for the Aomine/Kagami/Kuroko pic is here, one of my fave KnB pics ever:   
https://hubedihubbe.tumblr.com/post/84827108275/have-some-more-babes


	12. Intricacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Happy OT4 AU - Shiori lives and eventually becomes Akashi's mother, with Masaomi. This takes place while Seijuurou is in the hospital after Second Teiko.)
> 
> Akashi Shiori was well aware that her son was in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of Shiori being a mother to Seijuurou, given how close canon Seijuurou was to his mother, so this little snippet came to my mind. This is from the same OT4 Happy AU I wrote on earlier, which is that the OT4 got together and no one dies :D

Akashi Shiori was well aware that her son was in love. 

She knew that two floors down was a boy, bandaged up but alive, talking to his parents and brother. Possibly about the discussion her son had with them this morning. Possibly not. 

She sat by her son's bedside at the hospital while Masaomi was arguing with a doctor down the hall about something on the chart. Everything was oddly quiet, though, inside the room. She heard the gentle beep of healthcare equipment, and she thought she also heard, if she listened closely enough, the sounds of the tropical birds of Hawaii making their presence known. 

"Would you like to talk more about what happened, Seijuurou?" 

Her son looked up at her, away from the book he was reading. Shiori was pleased to see that it was Mansfield Park, and she had her suspicions as to why he was reading it. She remembered when her husband had read it, and proceeded to tell her why it was terrible, but the fact that he read it was one of the reasons she had begun to see him differently. She wondered what kind of person could have convinced their son to read a book so primarily about intricate human relationships. 

"I am not sure there is much more to say, Mother," he said, and he slipped a bookmark into the book and closed it. 

She gestured towards the book. "An interesting choice, not a very popular one. Although it is one of my favorites. Your father didn't care much for it, however."

That garnered her a blink. "It is one of your favorites?" 

She nodded. "I like how the book has so much interplay between the characters. It's a puzzle to see what they mean to each other. However, unlike reality, the information you need is simply on the page, and the reader can use that information to find the answers. In real life, we sometimes don't have all the information to know what we mean to someone." 

Seijuurou sighed. "How long have you known?" 

_Ah, that was quick. _"Since I saw you watch Youji carry him into the car to take him to the hospital." 

"He..." Seijuurou glanced at the door, and Shiori got up and shut it. When she sat back down, he continued, "He threw himself in front of a bullet for me. I would have died if he hadn't done that." 

Shiori appreciated that her son could tell her things he could not tell his father, things he perceived as weaknesses. She could not have the rapidfire discussions about finance and law the way that they did, nor could she be that powerful business figure that she knew he looked up to. But she was his mother, and he had taken to that, to everyone's surprise, exceedingly well.

"I see. And that makes you uncomfortable," prodded Shiori.

"Yes. I... I am tired of being the one who is saved." 

"It is not a terrible thing for someone to want to save you," said Shiori gently. Although this felt ironic, coming from her. But she too had changed, once. 

"I refuse to be the reason that someone I love sacrifices themselves again," said Seijuurou, firmly, almost angrily, and then froze. 

Shiori knew they were treading into very deep, very thorny territory, and swerved the topic into only slightly less thorny territory. "Does he _know_ you, Seijuurou? All of you?" 

"He knows us," said her son, grateful for the topic change, knowing what she was referring to. "And we both... we..." 

"I understand," said Shiori, and Seijuurou looked immensely relieved to not have to say it out loud. Some things were still awkward to say in front of your mother, despite their closeness.

The shouting in the hall had quieted down, and Shiori knew her husband would be returning. "He's terrible with doctors, isn't he?" mused Shiori. 

"Awful," agreed Seijuuro. She smiled. 

"Seijuurou, thank you for speaking with me. Whatever your decision is, make it fair to yourself, and fair to him. And do let me know what you think of Mansfield Park." 

Seijuurou nodded, and at that moment, Masaomi came in the door, scowling. "What kind of hospital has a typo on a medical chart? Carelessness, I could have done a better job than them."

"Your M.D is in research, dear," said Shiori as she stood up, straightening her dress. 

"Regardless," said Masaomi disdainfully. "Ugh! Seijuurou! You're reading Mansfield Park? Shiori, did you put him up to this?" 

"Don't you recall it fondly from our courting days?" asked Shiori, steering the conversation away expertly. 

"Courting days? Fondly? That's blatant rewriting of history!" groaned Masaomi, throwing up his hands and proceeding to rant about why the book was terminally boring. As he ranted, Shiori met eyes with her son, holding his gaze. They sparkled with mischief, and he felt immensely grateful for her manueverings. 

Seijuurou watched their banter with amusement, but in the back of his mind, he was thinking of the boy two floors down. The one who had told him the plot of the book while they only had each other, and now, even outside of the cage they were in, he still wants to hear about it from him. Today. Tomorrow. Every day after. 

_Soon. Once I finish this book, I'll tell him. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit after posting: I realized that Seijuurou was supposed to be in a coma and could not have seen Youji carrying Furihata out. I'm gonna pretend like in this Happy AU they were busted out a different way because Shiori harangued Masaomi to save their damn son, don't leave it up to him, he's sixteen for Christ's sake it's our job to save him, and they were rescued sooner than they were in Crown.


	13. Tally Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time Kasamatsu thinks he has been floored enough with the knowledge that his mother wrote porn about her husband and best friend falling in love, another hit comes at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after the assumed ending of This is Love, where hopefully they all live to be able to talk about how Yukio's mom wrote Guns and Flowers. And Kise would definitely be the kind of guy to just talk about it openly at a Maji Burger, let's be real.

"Isn't that the _coolest_? Senpai's mom wrote porn! Really good porn!" crowed Kise to Himuro and Takao, who were enjoying seeing Kasamatsu put his hands over his head in anguish. Thankfully it was just them in the Maji Burger waiting for their friends to show up to go watch the pro games together, so no customers had to overhear this. (RIP the staff, though.)

"How do you know it's good?" asked Takao. "Did you read it yet?"

"Senpai won't let me but I just _know_," said Kise stubbornly. 

"Your _father _is featured in it! Our father!" snapped Kasamatsu. "Isn't that weird?"

Kise shrugged. "I can just pretend it's you! That fixes it!"

"That doesn't fix _shit-"_

"Wait wait wait," said Himuro, his eyes wide, holding up a hand. "What was the title of this? You didn't say it yet."

"Oh! It's called _Guns and Flowers_," said Kise. "Poetic title, don't you think?"

Takao and Himuro exchanged terrified glances. Kasamatsu felt something was about to go wildly, wildly wrong. 

"Um, hey, maybe we should go play basketball or something while we wait for the others-" started Takao, scooting towards the door of the Maji Burger, but Kasamatsu stuck out his arm to block him. 

"Nope. What was that look?" 

Himuro sighed. "I mean.... we can tell you but Kise has to promise not to kill us."

"I haven't threatened to kill anyone in a long time! Senpai, tell them!"

Kasamatsu rolled his eyes. "I promise to make sure that Kise doesn't kill you over whatever you're about to say." 

"So... as you probably know, you were the main sexual awakening for lots of guys in the basketball league in Tokyo from when you started to when you graduated-" began Takao, but was immediately cut off by an "Excuse me?" from Kasamatsu briefly. Kise shushed him and motioned for Takao to continue.

"And so, one day, someone got ahold of a manga, and said, 'Huh, wow, doesn't this main character, Kouji, look like Kasamatsu-senpai, kinda, if you, you know, like, squint-'" said Himuro, trying to avoid the now murderous glare of Kasamatsu. 

"So someone with art skills on the Touou team got a copy and, uh, well..." Takao held out his hands and shrugged, figuring, if he was going to be murdered by Kasamatsu or Kise right there, he might as well go out talking about porn. "They drew leg warmers whenever you could see Kouji's legs." 

"_What_?" snarled Kasamatsu. "How many people saw this?"

"Um... well... you see," said Takao, trying to assess how close to death he was, because he realized, they'd only checked to see if Kise would murder them and not Kasamatsu. "At tournaments, it would get passed around, and then people would leave a tally mark in the back once they'd read it, and uh..."

"Probably about two hundred by the time you graduated," said Himuro, eyes flickering over to the exits. 

Kasamatsu was stunned, absolutely speechless. He could not move, function, or process what he had just heard.

Kise, on the other had, quietly walked over to Takao and put a hand on his shoulder. "Takao?"

"Uh.... yeah, Kise?" Takao's life, not for the first time in the past few years, flashed rapidly before his eyes. (It was actually, overall, pretty good.)

"Do you know who has that copy right now?" asked Kise, his yellow eyes flashing dangerously. 

"I could probably find out," said Takao, thinking back upon the blessings in his life, like being born with the Hawkeye, joining the Shutoku team, and falling in love with Midorima. It was had been a short life, too short, he thought, but a good one. What a shame it would end, here, now, in this Maji Burger. 

And then Kise's face split into a wide grin as he turned around and said, "Senpai! Problem solved! I can just read this copy! Senpai? Senpai?" 

"We should get out now while he's still broken," whispered Takao, and Himuro nodded, both of them bolting for the exits before Kise or Kasamatsu could stop them.

\---

"And now there's this manga floating around with what's supposed to be _me_ in it, all because Mom shipped you with Akashi's dad!" howled Kasamatsu, enraged. "I'm being sexually objectified by complete strangers!" 

Youji sighed over the phone, having given up on this conversation the second he answered the call to furious yelling. "Look, Yukio, sometimes, your image becomes wank fuel for thousands of people and there's nothing you can do about it. If you're so mad, just get that copy of the manga and burn it."

"I can't do that," said Kasamatsu. "Kise found out who had it and already got it from them. I think he even Copied Aomine so he could run there as fast as possible." 

"It's better than him reading the copies that make it look more like me, isn't it?" asked Youji. "I mean, he was going to read it anyway. You and I both know that." 

"Anyway, how did they miss that the author's last name was _my _last name?" asked Kasamatsu indignantly. 

"Is that really the takeaway here, Yukio? You're asking why high school boys who got access to porn didn't stop and ask questions about it?"

"I blame you for this," growled Yukio. 

"Actually, for once, this isn't me, you can blame your mother for it," said Youji cheerfully. "I've got to run but I'm sure I'll hear all about this mess from Kise when I get back to Tokyo." 

"Senpai! Senpai! I have it! It's beautiful!" yelled Kise as he burst into the house. "And there's way more than two hundred tallies in here now-"

Yukio muttered his goodbye into the phone and hung up. "Kise, I only have one request for you."

"Yes, Senpai?" asked Kise, eyes shining as he held, indeed, a very worn copy of _Guns and Flowers_ in his hands. 

"Just.... keep it for yourself so that no one else can get ahold of it."

"Yes, Senpai!"


	14. Until the Waking Takes Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinami began dreamsharing when she was thirteen.  
(HinaShi, dreamsharing AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic was inspired by another fic, [dreaming through the decades](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8538199/chapters/19574563), which was recommended by the excellent fanfic podcast Fic Clique. The second the concept of "they share dreams before they meet IRL" came up, I knew I had to make a HinaShi version of it. (Note - my rules of dreamsharing don't match the fanfic's, just a head's up if you've already read that fic and are confused by the rules I make in my fic.) 

Hinami was thirteen when the dreamsharing began.

She had learned all about it in class- the teacher was very, very careful to stress that the whole "soulmates" part of it was not always true, and that it was just someone who was important to your future. Great scientists had dreamshared with future research colleagues, artists with their platonic muses, business partners with funders. _Anyone _that could mean something to your future, really. 

But of course, many people in the class fixated on the romantic dreamsharing - and Hinami, who had barely begun to understand what romance meant to her, didn't participate in the hushed conversations in the halls about what they would do when they met the boy of their future in their dreamscape. She simply stuffed her books in her bag and headed to her next class. Her parents would be disappointed if she fell behind in her grades due to this twitterpatted nonsense. 

So when Hinami fell asleep after track practice once afternoon, she was surprised to find herself in an unfamiliar library when her eyes opened. 

She sat up instantly, taking stock of her surroundings. She'd never seen this library- it was elegant, refined, with green lamps on the tables and arching ceilings made of stone. It reminded her of movies about the West, of boys who climbed on desks and called out bravely to their teachers, or magical children that wore silly hats and fought monsters.

She never was one for those dramatic, unusual things. She liked the feel of the dirt beneath her feet, the wide sky, the satisfying feeling of leaping high over the hurdles to slam back into the ground again. What she could touch, understand. 

But for some reason, she was intrigued by this dream. She stepped through the stacks, reaching out to skim the titles.

All in English, for some reason. She wasn't poor at academics by any means, but she was still at an intermediate level of English, so she only caught some words here and there. 

"Studying during lunch as well?"

Hinami whipped around to see a girl about her age sitting at one of the tables, poring over some books. She was looking at Hinami with curious, calculating eyes. 

"Oh, sorry- I-" started Hinami, and then stopped. Why was she apologizing? This was a dream. Hinami had no idea how she got in here and it's not like falling on your couch could transport you to another land. Therefore, a dream.

Except she read somewhere once that when you dream, it has to be faces you have seen before. And she would have remembered this girl, if she'd seen her before. Her brown eyes were piercing, intense, her body delicate like the handle of a teacup. Her long hair framed a face that might be called beautiful one day, but for now, simply was clean and smooth. 

So this dream, it could mean... hm, no. Best to test out the theory first. 

"Is this your library?" asked Hinami, somehow bypassing "What's your name" and immediately going into the bizarre questions. She could hear her mother in her mind chiding her. 

The girl carefully slid a bookmark into her book and closed it. She stood up and walked towards Hinami. She was clothed in a Western-style dress, something reminiscent of the movies Hinami had seen of schoolgirls in Europe. It was a skirt and top combo with tights, not a dress, Hinami suddenly realized, with a coat of arms patch. Her shoes were neatly polished too, and Hinami felt self-conscious in her track uniform and messy ponytail. 

"No, it's the academy library. Although that's odd, I'm actually at home in Japan right now on break. I left my uniform back in my dorm." She tilted her head at Hinami. "Are you the important person who will build my future with me, in art or business, or will we simply be lovers?"

Hinami balked. "I - we aren't even sure this is dreamsharing yet," she stammered. Also, she'd barely begun to see boys differently, let alone figure out girls, and even then, she wasn't sure if it was just because she felt like she was told she would have these feelings, or if she genuinely did. Everything was confusing and she just was trying to balance sports with classes, honestly. 

And something bothered her about the girl's statement. "Who's to say that being someone's lover won't help them build their future?" What an odd thought, given how many people do build their lives around another person. It wasn't a weird assumption. 

The girl smiled, and her eyes were bright, intrigued. "I suppose? I think I just haven't really seen that in real life so I'm skeptical." 

"My parents met dreamsharing," said Hinami firmly. She'd heard the story dozens of times, at dinner parties and at bedtime, when Hinami insisted they tell it again. "They would just spend all the dreams talking about how they would help save the world one day. They eventually met in real life volunteering for the same nonprofit." A thought struck her. "Did - did your parents meet dreamsharing?"

The girl blinked, her eyes suddenly very distant. "No. No, they only met once." 

Hinami quietly thought to herself that she did not understand enough to ask more questions about this.

"Well, it's nice to meet you," Hinami said, "Even if you may not be real."

The other girl laughed, and bells tolled somewhere in the distance. Hinami turned towards the window to see an impressive belltower outside, gray stone and bronze. She felt the power of the bells through her body, thrumming, and before she could turn to the girl to ask her something else, she was being nudged awake by her mother, asking her to set the table for dinner. 

\-----

Hinami didn't dreamshare for a few more weeks. 

Rather, she didn't dream with the girl there for another few weeks - after all, she hadn't confirmed this was dreamsharing. Perhaps she had seen this girl in a movie, a background character, one of the witches in the magical school movie or something.

But this girl didn't seem like a background character. She couldn't be, not with her face and intensity. Girls like her weren't stuck in the background, that'd just be... unfair. 

Hinami hated unfairness. 

So when she went to bed after a long day of exams, she wasn't entirely surprised to wake up in a clean, bright room with gentle piano music in the background. She seemed to be on a couch of sorts, wearing, of all things, her school uniform.

The girl was sitting at the piano, focusing on her music with the same intensity that she had first regarded Hinami with. The music flowed, seemingly with no errors, although Hinami had never played an instrument or heard this song so she couldn't be sure. 

Once the music stopped, Hinami politely clapped, and the girl startled a bit, turning around. She was not in her school uniform this time, unlike Hinami, and was in a simple gray dress with clean, black kitten heels. Again, it was Westernized dress, even though she appeared, like Hinami, to be Japanese. 

"What song was that?" asked Hinami, looking at the complex sheet music on the piano in awe. She had taken enough music to read notes, as they all had to go through some level of art appreciation to pass into high school. But she never quite felt the drive to create in the way that some of her classmates had. 

"Chopin, Nocturne op.9 No.2," said the girl, standing up to brush the wrinkles out of her dress. "So do you believe we're dreamsharing now? Or do you dream about me frequently? This is only the second time I've seen you, if that helps track it." 

Hinami nodded. "Same." Her mouth felt dry. How odd, to meet someone who for sure would mean _something_ to you, but not know what. She had asked her mother many times how she felt about meeting her father, and it was always the same answer. "_We didn't know how it would go, or who we'd be to each other. But that's the point, Hinami, you learn and grow together."_

The girl stepped towards her. Her footsteps were soft, swallowed up by the carpet in the room. 

Carpet in a house. How odd. Hinami knew of wood floors, tatami mats, and carefully folding away futons every day. Everything in this room seemed slightly off, like the shape of the window handles or the air conditioner design. 

"Are you Japanese?" blurted out Hinami. "You - you look like it, and you speak in Japanese, but both times now, we're not in Japan, are we?" 

The girl nodded. "I am Japanese, but I get go to boarding school in England. I spend summers in Japan, the school year here." 

"Wow," breathed out Hinami. She'd never been outside of Japan, honestly had barely traveled inside of it, except occasional vacations and once when her father took them along on a business trip to Osaka from Tokyo. "That's really cool. You're so... traveled."

This didn't seem to cheer the girl at all, and instead of reacting to the question, she gestured to the couch. "Yes. May I sit?" 

"It's your couch," said Hinami, and then realized how rude that was. Clearly the girl had asked to be polite. "Oh, uh, yes." She scooted over and motioned to sit down.

"I'm Shiori," said the girl, holding out her hand for a handshake. _How very Western, _mused Hinami, who shook it back._ First name only...._

"Kasamatsu Hinami," said Hinami, but realized, when she said her last name, the word was silent, only her first name coming out. "I mean - I'm Kasamatsu-" again, silence.

"I think the dreamsharing isn't letting us give an identifying name or information," said Shiori, musing. "I've heard of this - so we can't find each other before it's our time to do so." 

"So we just use our first names?" Everything about this was so unusual. The immediate intimacy of it all. 

"With honorifics, I think we can manage to keep our politeness going. It's a pleasure to meet you, Hinami-senpai," said Shiori, smiling. Hinami got the feeling that this smile was genuine, and rarely used. 

"How did you know I was your senpai?" Hinami asked, frowning. They hadn't exchanged information like ages or grades yet.  


"Your uniform - you're in high school. I'm just at the end of middle school." She gestured to her own uniform, but Hinami wouldn't have been able to tell anyway.

"I don't know Western uniform meanings very well," admitted Hinami. "Is- is it nice, boarding school?" 

Shiori looked thoughtful. "I wouldn't know any other life. I have excellent tutors, the classes are interesting, and the food is only terrible during Lent." 

Hinami laughed, but she wasn't sure why, as she didn't know what Lent was, but something about the way she said it made it funny. Like everything was cleverer when said by her. 

"How is Japanese public school?" 

"Never been to another school system, so I wouldn't know either, but it's not so bad. I like doing sports, that's probably my favorite part, especially being able to see my friends a lot." Unsure of what else to say, she went into a story about the drama in her friend group at track, over who got picked for specific competition slots. Thankfully, most of the girls liked Hinami a lot so she wasn't the target of their ire, but she wasn't sure how to handle the breakdown in communication among her teammates.

Shiori listened intently, and asked good, probing questions. Hinami was the senpai here, but Shiori felt wiser than her, more mature. They strayed to other topics after a few minutes, and Hinami felt a little more at ease than when she had first met Shiori.

"Oh... I just realized. If you're in England, and I'm in Japan, then surely our sleeping schedules aren't aligned," mused Hinami. 

Shiori shrugged. "I'm not sure either. Perhaps the dreamsharing is staggered, delayed, like the mind on jet lag." 

Hinami felt something tugging at her consciousness - a shrill beeping. "My alarm's going off, I think. I'll see you later?" 

Shiori nodded and stood up, offering her hand to Hinami to help her up. It was small and beautiful, long-fingered. "Until we dream again, Hinami-senpai." 

\-----

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" asked Hinami. They were laying in a park, a Hinami-dreamscape, the cherry blossoms fluttering down around them. Due to the way the English school year was, Shiori had at one point admitted to never having actually properly done cherry blossoms, given she was only in Japan in the summer months. Therefore, the next time they dreamed, Hinami was pleased to see they were taken to a memory of the cherry blossoms. She glanced over at Shiori, who was looking up in awe at the light pink petals falling around them.

"A mangaka," said Shiori firmly, and Hinami jolted slightly in surprise. 

"Oh, really?" For some reason, Hinami had pictured Shiori as the business type, as she was so calm and studious. 

Shiori picked up a handful of petals and tossed them into the air, letting them fall down on her face. "Yes, I draw constantly. I'm an expert at keeping teachers from seeing me do it." Hinami giggled. "What about you?"

"I don't know. I want to help people, I think. I like being active. I don't think I could do an office job. I'm still not sure." She frowned, uncertain. 

"You'll figure it out," said Shiori confidently, looking over at her and smiling softly, and Hinami felt herself smile back.

They laid there in silence for a while as the trees waved above them. Even though they had only been dreamsharing for several months, Hinami felt comfortable with Shiori. Maybe that was because they were dreamsharers, therefore destined to mean something to each other somehow, but she hoped that, in another world, if they'd met normally, they would have been friends. 

"Thank you for letting me see this," said Shiori. "It's beautiful."

"You're welcome," Hinami said, although she felt bad since it's not like she could control the dreamscapes at all. But if Shiori asked to see more things, she'd try to make it work.

\------

"Your English has gotten much better this semester," noted Crawford-sensei, flipping through the tests she was handing back. The teacher set Hinami's test down, a nearly perfect score. "Do you practice at home?"

"I - I have a penpal," said Hinami, not sure why she felt odd saying she actually had been dreamsharing with an English speaker. From what Shiori had told her, she had been raised by English-speaking nannies since birth, so she was bilingual. Sometimes they spoke in English, to practice Hinami's skills, and Hinami grew to realize how much she was pleased to hear Shiori speaking in a language she couldn't fully understand. It was like a puzzle she could learn to unravel, so that perhaps she could understand Shiori better. 

But she hadn't told anyone yet. Dreamsharing was still intensely personal, and it was considered rude to bring it up unless someone mentioned they'd found their dreamsharer. So Hinami felt safe in her secret, in her hours spent with this girl across the world. 

"A penpal... excellent! Well, keep it up," said Crawford-sensei, smiling and moving along to the next student. 

Hinami looked down at her test score and wondered how else her newfound friendship was impacting her. 

\----

It'd been about a year since they started dreamsharing. They, more often than not, ended up in places meaningful to Shiori rather than Hinami, but Hinami didn't really mind. This time, however, they ended up at the track behind the school where Hinami practiced with her team. 

"Never seen it empty before," said Hinami, looking at the empty space. Even in the mornings, it was teeming with clubs, and recently, the sports festival training had taken over the entire area, so having it all to herself felt like a gift. She was in her track uniform, which looked freshly washed. 

Shiori looked out of place on the athletics field, her polished black shoes starkly contrasting with the rust-red asphalt of the track. She looked unusual there, prim and proper and not very athletic. 

Who was she, Hinami wondered, when she was not with Hinami? How did the rest of the world see Shiori? 

"We had to suspend practice for a bit to give the field to the school for the sports festival. Do they have sports festivals at your school in England?" asked Hinami, doing stretches. She felt like running, taking advantage of all this space. She knew that she probably wasn't going to feel it when she woke up, but she always felt mentally better after a run, so she might as well. 

"Not really. We have physical education classes, but it's more about fulfilling school requirements rather than any sort of teamwork," said Shiori. "Are you going running now?" 

Hinami nodded. "Want to keep time for me?" 

Shiori smiled, a small priceless gift, and Hinami's stomach fluttered. She decided to run away from her feelings rather than stand there and experience them. She was one of the fastest in her class, after all.

She felt Shiori's eyes on her as she circled the track, and tried to focus on her running form more than how her body must look to Shiori. 

\- 

Months later, they were in Hinami's homeroom, the room flooded with noonday light. Shiori was brittle, her eyes bright in the way the streets are after a rain, too shiny, too much, slick with oil.

"Shiori-chan?" asked Hinami, cautiously. "Are you okay?" She knew her friend wasn't but it was polite to ask. 

Shiori shook her head, her lips reddened from being bitten. "I - I need a moment." She looked down, and Hinami realized something had been brought with her from the outside world - her sketchbook. 

Hinami sat down at the desk in front of her, not commenting on how Shiori had chosen, somehow, her exact position of her own desk in class, despite that Hinami had entered the dream through the door of her classroom and couldn't have given the position of her usual seat away. "Okay. I'll be here." 

Time passed quietly, as Hinami just read what was on the board. Math class from last week, it seemed. She focused on the variables and constants, doing the problems in her head, until she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

"Hmm?" She turned and Shiori, head still down, spoke.

"My nanny found my sketchbook. She... told my father what was in it."

Hinami's stomach clenched. "What was in it?"

Shiori shoved it over, her normally controlled and elegant movements jerky. Hinami opened the sketchbook to a random page, and had to hold her breath to keep from gasping. 

It was her. Ponytail high, the movement of it swinging frozen on the page, her face alive with joy and vigor. It looked to be her running around the track, her clothes shifting with the movement of the wind. 

"But.... this wouldn't have caused an issue," said Hinami, confused. She was flattered, and her chest squeezed at the thought of Shiori drawing her, but surely this wasn't the issue.

"Turn the pages," said Shiori, her voice breaking with, Hinami was surprised to realize, anger. She'd never seen Shiori angry before.

Or, perhaps, Shiori had never let Hinami see her angry before. 

Hinami turned the page, and that's when it hit her- _this _was why.

On the page were two boys kissing, laying in a bed. They looked tender, in love, and the writing at the bottom of the page had the date and the words, "Spock/Jim zine contribution". 

"This is..." said Hinami, blinking. "Really beautiful." 

Shiori raised her head, her eyes colorful like stained glass, shiny red and brown. "You - you don't mind it?" Shiori seemed so shatterable right now. Hinami wanted to squeeze her hands around her so the other girl wouldn't simply fall apart. 

"I mean, I don't see why it's an issue," said Hinami, who had heard the arguments against homosexuals (and the word made her angry, even though she didn't know another word to call it, but she knew a better one had to exist). "It's just love, isn't it?" 

Shiori seemed soothed slightly by this. "Yes. Yes it is." 

"Is it common in England?" asked Hinami. She'd seen some American TV, heard of the news about AIDS, but it all seemed so far away. She'd even passed by Shinjuku a few times and thought she saw, once, two men holding hands, but it may have been just them bumping against each other. 

Shiori shrugged. "I'm not sure. Some other girls at school - they pass around these fanmade journals, these art magazines - we call them zines- and sometimes it's straight couples, sometimes gay."

"Is it-" _Courage, courage, _thought Hinami, because she was always being told she was strong, and she hoped everyone else was right. "Is it ever two girls?" 

Shiori took her sketchbook back and flipped through it. She pushed it over to Hinami, who saw two women on the page, one pale-skinned woman with a high, bizarre hairstyle, and the other dark-skinned with a bobbed, black haircut. They were gently holding each other's cheeks, smiling softly. 

"That's Janice Rand and Nyota Uhura from Star Trek. It's an American TV Show. Not many girls, really, but I like these two together. It's set in the future, so everything is supposed to be perfect. So maybe it's alright there."

"Your art's gotten really good," said Hinami, because otherwise she would say, "_You think about this too?" _and she wasn't ready for that. Not yet. 

Shiori gifted her with another small smile, and Hinami resisted the urge to stand up, pull her from the desk chair, and drag her over to her reality with her.

"If you were here, in Japan, I'd have you meet my parents," said Hinami instead, her heart pounding like her feet hitting the track. "They always turn off the TV when the conservative politicians come on. I think they wouldn't mind." She did not mention that they didn't have a guest room, and that Shiori would have to sleep in her room, on the spare futon. Only a few feet away. Or closer, if it was summer and they had to make room for the fan on the floor. 

Shiori breathed out, her exhale shaky. "I'd like that. Your parents sound wonderful."

"They're the best," said Hinami.

\-------

In the two years since they started dreamsharing, Hinami and Shiori had discovered what else you could do in dreams - namely, exploring beyond the room they were in. They got the hang of it after a year of experimenting with the dreamscape's rules, testing the boundaries of where they could go. Now they were expert explorers, interacting with the environment with ease. 

"This is my school's main street," said Shiori, navigating down the cobblestone path. In their dreams, there was never anybody else, so the stores were oddly open but not watched over by shopkeepers. Hinami poked her head into one, seeing foods and packaging she didn't recognize. "Lots of people come here in between classes for snacks or smokes." 

Hinami picked up what looked to be a package of sweets. "These are- biscuits?" 

Shiori laughed. "Yes, but since you learn American English from TV too, they call them cookies. It can be confusing, I know." 

Regardless, Hinami tore it open, taking one for herself and the other for Shiori. This was technically theft but since no one was affected (it was a dream after all) it felt somehow alright. She bit into the cookie, and it was lightly sweet, not in an overly sugared way that some American candies she'd dreamtasted had been. 

"I wonder how I know what it tastes like," said Hinami, looking at the packaging. "Is it because you've tasted it?"

"I think so," said Shiori, looking around. "For instance, I've never tried this kind - I always just go for my favorite brand." She handed over a different package to Hinami, who opened it and bit into the new cookie. But it was nothing, just the texture of what she could expect the cookie to feel like. 

"Yeah, it... it's nothing," said Hinami, putting down the package. "Weird."

"So if neither of us have experienced something, we can't tell what it'll actually be like," said Shiori, her eyes on Hinami, observing in an oddly intense way. "Do you think that applies to other things?"

Hinami felt a shiver. "I... don't know." 

Shiori stepped forward, and Hinami was very, very aware of how no one else was around. She had committed theft, without fear of the consequences, because no one was there to see it besides Shiori. They could do a lot without fear of the consequences here.

Well, without fear of outside consequences. There would always be some kind of consequences within the dreamscapes they walked together. 

Shiori was shorter than Hinami, but Hinami always felt like Shiori was leveled with her, somehow. So when Shiori met Hinami's gaze, her energy brimming with that quiet Shiori intensity, Hinami felt like the world was going to shift in a permanent way, a huge way, an unchangable way. 

And then, she felt a pull, a tug, and the shop vanished. 

Hinami sat up, and then froze as she saw her neighbor had shaken her awake. "What- what-"

"Hinami-chan," said the neighbor, her voice heavy. "Hinami-chan, please... I need to tell you... your parents... well... the police let me in... and..."

The neighbor kept speaking but Hinami knew, she just knew, and by the end of the sentence, Hinami felt sick, dizzy, vertigo seizing her body.

Her world had changed in a huge, unchangeable, permanent way. 

\-----

_I must be dreaming. I must be dreaming. _

_Oh God, I want to wake up. I need to wake up. Someone wake me up._

The funeral felt like a hollow, meaningless gesture. Hinami could barely swallow down her "Thank you for coming"s without vomiting. Everything was echoing and dragging about in her chest, making her want to crumple into a heap and lie there. 

She kept telling herself that if this was a dream, Shiori could save her from this. She looked around, and Shiori was not there. 

Her parents were dead, and Shiori was not there. 

This was not a dream. Just a nightmare. 

\----

Everything hurts, hurts, _hurts-_

_Why don't they let you scream at funerals? _thought Hinami, angrily, bitterly, as she stumbled in the dreamscape. Everything clawed at her, her throat and eyes raw, and she didn't even realize Shiori was there until someone caught her falling over.

"Hinami! What happened? Are you alright?" she asked, her normally calm, measured voice spiking in pitch. 

"They're dead," Hinami choked out, and the words made her throat hurt, and she bawled again, the tears crashing violently out of her. "My parents- they-" and the wave of grief shockwaved through her again, and she sobbed, sobbed, as Shiori held her. Two girls in an empty graveyard, the smell of incense heavy, the red capes on the statues fluttering in the wind. Hinami felt so small, so tiny, in this world that did not care. 

"I'm so sorry, Hinami," whispered Shiori, over and over, as Hinami wept, her hands gripping Shiori's dress and releasing the cloth, creating wrinkles. 

"The driver- he was - drunk - didn't even care if he killed people," choked out Hinami, the grief sinking her morals like a weight, plumbing her depths, finding the awful, awful parts of her she tried to push down. "I want - I'm so- _fuck him_," she snarled, and belatedly realized how ugly, how cruel she must appear to Shiori. "I- I didn't mean-"

"You can say it," said Shiori, holding Hinami tightly. "It's okay. Let it out. Scream." 

Hinami had not screamed since she found out because she had constantly been surrounded by people. People trying to check in on her, _are you okay Hinami-chan, you'll be alright Hinami-chan, they would be so proud of you_. Good mourning daughters don't scream, they quietly weep. They are quiet and good.

She _was not_ quiet and good. 

She howled, the rage crawling out of her mouth and puking itself up as cacophonous, dissonant cry; shaking, shrieking, shuddering. After it all, she felt lighter, emptier, and she wondered how much of herself she lost right then. 

It didn't matter, though, because Shiori had not shrank away, had not balked at her fury. She held her friend tightly as the grief made a mess of Hinami's childhood, and a mess of the person Hinami thought she was becoming. 

She didn't know who she would be after this. What kind of person would she become- a person molded by this loss for the rest of her life, perhaps, someone who could never move on from this?

Hinami didn't realize she was mumbling these words in between hiccups and coughing sobs until Shiori said, fervently, intensely, "Hinami, don't worry about that now. Just exist for now. That's all you need to do."

Even that was hard. "How?" asked Hinami, squeezing Shiori's arm tightly. 

Shiori held her closely, and her voice was a port in the storm. "I don't know. But I'll be there with you as you figure it out. I promise."

\---

Being awake was hard. Going to sleep was hard.

At least the dreamsharing was easier.

"So they've got me seeing a counselor every few weeks. It's tough." Hinami's voice was tired, scratchy. 

"But it's good that you're doing that," said Shiori, soft encouragement in her voice.

"Yeah, it's just... a lot." Hinami felt an uncomfortable twist in her stomach. "Let's talk about something else," she said, shifting against the blanket they were sitting on. They'd moved away from area with her parents' graves after the first two dreamshares, when they appeared next to them. It helped with the distance in Hinami's mind, even though all of their dreamshares since it happened had stayed in the graveyard. 

There was a large ginkgo tree that they'd chosen to sit under, blazing yellow, that filtered the sunlight in a way that made the ground look like a painting. They watched as the ginkgo leaf drop passed, all of the leaves falling over the day.

"I love the leaf drop," said Shiori, looking around. She picked up a few of them and tossed them into the air, watching them spin quickly down. "Across the world, the ginkgo trees all just let their leaves go at once."

"Even in England, today?" asked Hinami, picking up some of the leaves to examine them. 

Shiori nodded. "Yes, I walked through them on the way to class this morning."

Hinami smiled. A fragile smile, but still there. "That sounds nice. That we share that."

Shiori picked up a leaf and handed it over to Hinami. "It's nice that we're sharing this too." Their hands brushed as Hinami took the leaf from her, and Hinami felt a spark in her belly at the touch. 

They hadn't talked about what had happened before Hinami woke to the news about her parents. _What was there really to talk about? _Hinami didn't know what to call it. Shiori hadn't said anything yet. _She has more tact than to bring it up while I'm in mourning, probably. _

"How are you doing? We've mostly talked about me since... well, yeah." Hinami was still having trouble saying it out loud. Not that it needed saying. They always knew. Their dreamscapes were only graveyards now. 

Shiori went quiet, and Hinami glanced over at her. "Hey. Something's up. Tell me."

"I don't want to burden you," said Shiori, her face slipping into a neutral mask. "I'm fine, really."

_You don't have to mask around me_, thought Hinami desperately. She knew that Shiori wasn't the same thirteen year old she'd met in the library dreamscape, and that she was someone else outside of the little worlds they shared. Someone who kept a guard up, someone who used their poise as a shield. "Shiori, please, you've helped me a lot with all this. I want to make it equal." 

Shiori looked conflicted. "It's... nothing conclusive yet. Just some medical tests. But it's nothing, We aren't even sure there are issues." 

Hinami gaped. "How long have you been holding this back? Why didn't you tell me? What's wrong?"

Sighing, Shiori rearranged her legs on the blanket. Hinami noted that she wasn't in a particular uncomfortable position before. "Hinami, I want the focus to be on you. You have immediate, long-term-changing concerns. I can handle this on my own. Really."

Hinami was torn between "Let me be there for you" and the knowledge that she probably couldn't handle it now. She felt stuck and frustrated. 

"I want to help," she said, because honesty had served her well so far with Shiori. Hinami was starting to think she didn't know how to exist other than honestly. 

"I know," said Shiori, and Hinami felt that that would have to do for now. She couldn't give much more at the moment anyway. 

\-------

"I never got to introduce you to them."

"I know. I would have loved to have met them."

"I never even told my mom about you. I should have. I should have told her everything going on in my life. Now she'll never know."

"That sounds painful. It hurts a lot, I imagine." 

"I'm so fucked up from this, Shiori." 

"Come here, come here. It's okay."

\-----

The gravel was a familiar, detested sight. 

"I'm sorry we keep coming back here." Hinami kicked at the ground for lack of better action. 

"Don't apologize," said Shiori, settling down on the path in the middle of the graves. "It's important to you right now."

Hinami looked down at her hands. They were shaking slightly. "Shiori, it's been nearly a year. Why can't I move on?"

"No one expects you to get over the death of your parents that quickly, Hinami." 

Hinami didn't say anything. She just sprawled out on the road, feeling the bits of gravel on it dig into her back. At least the sun was out this time. Most times these past few months it was the same overcast gray sky that it was during her parents' funeral. 

Shiori laid down next to her, and they lay there in silence until waking took them. 

\---

In some dreamshares, she forgot somehow that she was in a graveyard, if they appeared under the ginkgo tree and not in the immediate graveyard itself. She was just with Shiori, she was just somewhere that wasn't not her foster parents' house, it was a beautiful day. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that they were in the real world, and everything was okay. Even if just for a minute. 

\---

"I made the altar to my parents last night."

"How did it feel?"

"It hurt a lot. But they look nice in there. I know I was supposed to do it sooner but..." 

"I think you should just do it when you feel ready for it. And you are now."

"I didn't think I'd ever be ready for it. I'm not sure I am. But I did it, so, that's that, I guess." 

"That makes sense. Do you want help sweeping the graves again today?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

\----

One day, Hinami, to her surprise, found their dreamscape to be indoors.

"We're not in the graveyard," said Hinami with wonder. She seemed to be in a doctor's office of some sort, with diagrams of bodies on the wall. "This is our first time outside the graveyard since..."

"That's a good thing, right?" said Shiori. She was sitting on the table in the loose cotton shifts they give to patients. 

"I guess," said Hinami. "I don't think I'll ever be fully moved on, but, it's better than being stuck there forever. But why are we in this doctor's office?" 

Shiori's mouth twisted grimly. "Do you want the good news or bad news first?" 

Hinamis heart sped up immensely. "Just say it fast all at once." 

"I don't have ovarian cancer. But I found out that I'm infertile," said Shiori bluntly, and Hinami felt the confusing mix of elation and grief.

"Oh, Shiori," said Hinami, rushing over to hug Shiori tightly. Shiori's face was painfully neutral, something she had gotten quite good at over the years.

_Who are you when you aren't here? _wondered Hinami, again. _Why are you so good at holding it all back? _"You can talk to me about it, please talk to me about it." She knew that she probably saw more of Shiori than anyone else in her real life, and she was determined to keep this precious position as Shiori's confidant.

"I wasn't even sure I wanted children anyway," said Shiori, her voice not breaking. "Also there's always adoption."

"You're allowed to mourn the possibilities," said Hinami, knowing that Shiori likely got the rundown of alternative options from her doctor right away. "It's okay to be mad that something in your body isn't going to work the way you thought it would."

Shiori nodded, the action brittle. "Right. Yes." Her eyes flickered to the posters on the wall, artists' renderings of organs and skin layers, very distant from flesh and blood Hinami saw before her. She looked like stone, something unbreakable, and Hinami hated seeing her grow into that. 

"Look, when I have kids, you'll spend so much time with them, you'll be a second mom," said Hinami, firmly. "You'll tell them fairytales and feed them and play with them,so they'll just basically be yours too."

Shiori laughed at that. "That's very optimistic of you, Hinami." But her face did soften slightly. 

Hinami stepped back from hugging Shiori and resolutely said, "It'll happen. I swear."

The two girls looked at each other - Hinami, steely-eyed, and Shiori, her eyes shimmering with a glimmer of hope. 

"I think I believe you," said Shiori at last. 

\-----

"I'll be attending college in Japan. In the same city where my father works."

Hinami blinked in surprise. "Oh, so, you are going then." She leaned over her coffee at the cafe they were at, some quaint, quiet one that Shiori mentioned she would sketch at during class breaks. 

"Father won't let me not go," said Shiori, her mouth set in an uncomfortable line. "Mangaka don't need to earn a degree but he refuses to let any of his children- even an illegitimate one - not earn one."

"If I ever meet your father, I'll punch him," said Hinami flatly, and Shiori smiled, because she knew Hinami would."What will you study? Art composition?"

"Art and literature, likely, I doubt purely art would suffice for him. but I enjoy reading, so it won't be the worst thing, I suppose." Shiori looked down at her lap, oddly fidgety, and then steeled herself to look up. Her eyes were set, and serious. "Also... if I chose to get into getapping, perhaps I could do that."

Hinami stared. "What?" 

Shiori looked oddly tense, and she seemed to choose her words carefully. "Getapping. It's the traditional Japanese art form of dance with geta shoes. The wooden platform shoes. It's very uncommon, so few universities have it, especially in Tokyo, but it seems that I will be able to be in a club about that, if I choose to do so, even though it's so rare to find a club for it." 

Hinami was about to ask further questions, absolutely baffled, but she heard the dreaded beeping of her alarm, and was pulled away from dreamspace. Shiori's oddly concerned and serious face was the last thing she saw before blinking her eyes open to see the sun through her windows.

She spent the day wondering why the hell Shiori, someone who had never mentioned a single interest in this obscure Japanese tradition, would be discussing that her university would have a club about _getapping _of all things. Was it a metaphor? Some other kind of club? Was it slang? Some secret passion she'd never felt okay to mention before now?

And then it hit her.

"Oh my god," gasped Hinami, rushing over to her pile of college pamphlets on her desk, frantically trying to find the lists of clubs she had been sent. 

Where Shiori's father works. Politics. She didn't know exactly what but it was politics, and important politics too. Likely Tokyo, then.

She found the Tokyo universities' pamphlets, hurling away the rest, and from there, skimmed her fingers down the club lists, tossing away the pamphlets that didn't mention geta clubs. 

And then. There it was. 

Waseda University, geta club. One of the only universities to have a fully running, highly competitive geta club. And as of now, the only one in Tokyo. 

"You did it, Shiori," whispered Hinami, gripping the pamphlet to her chest. 

Screw the dreamsharing rules. Screw waiting for them to find each other 'when the time was right'. They'd long given up trying to work around these difficult rules of the dreamscape, able to say what countries they were in but unable to narrow it down beyond there. But she did it, Shiori, the cleverest person Hinami would ever meet, she had found a way. 

Later that afternoon, Hinami worked on her applications, putting as much care as she could into her Waseda one. She had to get in. She just had to. 

Someone was going to be waiting there for her. 

\---

Several months passed in between dreams - it was sometimes like that, frustratingly, as Hinami had been sitting on this information, desperate to tell Shiori for a while now. 

So when she found herself in an art supply store, all of the words in English around her, she yelled, "Shiori? Shiori!!", dashing through the aisles, knocking over stacks of sketchbooks as she frantically searched.

"Hinami? Is everything alright?" Shiori poked her head out from behind a display. "What's wrong-"

"I got into my university top choice!" Hinami sprinted over to Shiori, suddenly grabbing her and hugging her tightly. 

"That's fantastic, Hinami!" said Shiori, smiling, hugging Hinami back. 

"Geta!" blurted out Hinami, who hoped that the dreamscape wouldn't silence her. "I- I could join the geta club too."

Shiori, if possible, smiled more widely than before. "Is that so?" 

"I think I will," said Hinami, breathless. "Will you too?" In a moment of boldness, she reached out to hold both of Shiori's hands.

They hadn't touched on the possibility of - _this -_ for a while now, but Hinami had to make her intentions known. She looked at Shiori squarely in the eye, waiting for Shiori to politely, gently, pull her hands away. 

But she did not. Shiori returned the squeeze of Hinami's hands, and her lovely mouth opened gently, slightly, in awe, in wait of what was to come. 

"Of course," said Shiori. "I'll be waiting for you."

\----

Hinami was frankly _done_ with this day and the semester had barely begun.

Already she had been informed her ID paperwork had gotten delayed so she wouldn't be able to start working her job at the university library for another two weeks. She had gotten into a literature class she needed but the professor decided at the last minute to change it, leaving her scrambling to find another class in the same time slot so it didn't mess up the work schedule she gave to the library. 

And then, the guy. 

The guy who, upon hearing how she had saved some girls from getting mugged by throwing the attacker down a flight of stairs during the first week of parties, told her he loved her, despite barely knowing her. 

So Hinami only did what anyone else would have done.

She hurled her iced coffee in his face. 

"Screw you, that's a crappy joke to make," she snarled, stomping away as his friend laughed loudly, gasping for air. The guy only blinked, with coffee dripping down his face, and looked, if possible, even more pathetic. She briefly wondered if the friend put the guy up to it, because he seemed like an asshole. She hoped she would never see them again.

So there Hinami was, iced-coffee-less, wondering if she could fit another literature class in her schedule, all the while feeling out of place and alone in this giant new university, and rapidly spiraling into 'time to throw this whole day away' territory. 

Therefore, when someone tapped her on the shoulder, she spun around, ready to absolutely go feral -

"_Shiori?"_

"You're _here_," breathed Shiori, in the flesh, her brown eyes wide and filled with joy. "Oh, Hinami.._._"

Hinami wrapped Shiori up in a hug, pulling her tightly in. "I don't want to be dreaming, tell me I'm not dreaming," she said, filling up with this weird mixture of joy and panic. 

"No, we're not, I know we're not," said Shiori, and she pulled Hinami to the side of a building, away from the bustling students. "My name is Nakahara Shiori. I live in Tokyo, Japan, and attend Waseda University. And I've been waiting to meet you since I was twelve. What's your full name, Hinami?" 

"Kasamatsu Hinami," said Hinami, grinning. Her entire crappy day was blown away, instantly, by the knowledge that her dreamsharer was _here. _She reached out and squeezed Shiori's hands, and they were warm, and real, and everything around her was warm and real and _she was here. _

"You know, I had plans to attend the geta club meeting next week," said Shiori, her eyes showing her delight. "I wondered if that would be how I would find you."

Hinami looked thoughtful. "Do you think we should still join?"

That evoked a laugh from Shiori. "Since we've already found each other, it seems like a moot point. I'd much rather get coffee with you. Have you had any this morning?"

"Funny story about that," said Hinami as they set off together, towards whatever their destiny might hold. 

If it was anything like her dreams, Hinami felt pretty good about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made up a bit about the exclusivity of getapping club for plot purposes but Waseda University today DOES have a geta club if you wanna join. 


	15. I swear to you, I will change the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HinaShi, Revolutionary Girl Utena AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally, if it's a fandom people may not know, I try to give a quick summary so you can read the fic but honestly you cannot summarize Utena, it's just a bonkers anime that is also bonkers good, I highly recommend it if you haven't seen it.  
But yeah if you haven't seen it this won't make a lot of sense to you so *gestures* good luck parsing this out, friends.

"Who has time for all of these duels? Do you guys even go to class?" scowled Hinami, looking at the paper in her locker. "Like... ever?" 

"Who are we to argue with the End of the World?" said Shiori, leaning against the locker. "Will you defend the Rose Bride, then, Kasamatsu-sama?"

Hinami looked at Shiori, her hands clasped together in front of her in request. Hinami looked at her friend, her roommate, a person she had become very fond of despite all this insanity that now was a part of her life.

"Of course I will." 

\-----

Kenji held out his sword, snarling, "You have no idea of the power she contains. You're wasting your time, Kasamatsu. Hand over the Rose Bride."

Hinami ignored him and turned to Shiori. "Do I have to use the sword, or can I just beat him up?"

Shiori's mouth quirked up into a smile, which she quickly stowed away. The Rose Bride's face settled back into neutral, as if her life wasn't being dueled over. "I believe the sword will be to your advantage, Kasamatsu-sama ." 

"Also, this isn't the time or place, but you can just call me Kasamatsu, or at least Kasamatsu-senpai," said Hinami exasperatedly. "I don't actually own you." 

"As you say, Kasamatsu-sama." The Rose Bride's eyes were alight with mischief. They sparkled brightly, and Hinami would have been lost in them even further if not for the tell-tale hiss of a blade coming at her.

She leapt out of the way, pulling Shiori with her, and then, as Shiori said her phrase to activate the sword, Hinami felt compelled, the words bubbling out of her mouth, to say, "Grant me the power to bring the world revolution!" 

_What do these words mean? _Hinami wondered as she drew the sword out of Shiori's chest. _I've always wanted to help people, but what's all this about revolution? Do all of these duels mean anything?_

Kenji lunged at her, and she parried back, and the blows rained down. Hinami expertly dodged him, easily trading blows. She frankly would have loved to have punched in the mouth several times over at this point; the asshole kept calling these stupid duels to try to "get the Rose Bride back" even though Shiori should belong to no one but herself. 

Hinami kept meaning to ask Shiori what the root of all this was, but Shiori evaded the questions, and Hinami eventually had to let it go. 

If she had to keep doing these duels to keep Shiori safe, she supposed she'd keep doing it, over and over, defending Shiori with the sword pulled from her own chest. 

Even though Hinami really needed to stop missing class for this bullshit. 


	16. It Takes a Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinami had hoped she'd have a family again one day. She hadn't expected the family to be her boyfriend, her girlfriend, and their boyfriend, but it's not like she had this planned out. She wasn't sure anyone could have planned for this kind of amazing, weird chaos.  
(OT4 Happy AU, where everyone lives and gets together, and baby Yukio has four parents)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this, it means that Chapter 10 of This is Love (I've Never Loved So Much) has been posted, and since we all had known it was going to be a very sad one, I decided to hold off posting my "Happy OT4 AU - now with bonus baby Yukio" fic until Chapter 10 was posted. 
> 
> If you have not read chapter 10 yet, go ahead and read it, process your sadness, and then come back here for 14,000 words of OT4 cuteness, fluffy baby shenanigans, and all of that good stuff. It's the same universe as my OT4 fluff piece from chapter 6 of this work (A Content Canvas) but not necessary to read before reading this. 
> 
> There are many timeskips in this piece, hopefully I've given enough time context in the content to make that clear. Masaomi, as always, is the hardest of the OT4 for me to write, so if he seems out of character here, well, I tried, haha.

Three days ago, Hinami would have hysterically laughed at the idea of sitting on a bench on a park with Masaomi, discussing the _situation_ they were in.

(The _situation_ that succinctly could be described as "We are in love with the same two people, and somehow, you think that this is not only fine, but possibly could lead to some sort of good outcome?")

But three days ago, Hinami had not seen Masaomi and Youji kiss, nor herself kissed Shiori, nor heard that Masaomi had kissed Shiori. It had been a bizarre day for everyone, it seemed, but apparently everything could serve to get more bizarre. 

So she took the situation in stride and went along with it because, well, what the hell else was she supposed to do?

“How would this all,” she gestured vaguely, “_work_? Not that I’m committing to anything.”

Masaomi shrugged. “I mean, if we all four talked together, I’m sure we’d come to other agreements, but as I see it, we would date who we want to date within our circle – well, square, I suppose- and just be open about it with each other.”

“Is that possible?” asked Hinami, frowning. “I’ve never met anyone who does that.”

“I’ve met others in America, and I know there are some communities here, but I don’t think we’d need to be a part of those. But it’s possible. I’ve asked around.”

Hinami raised an eyebrow. “You’re rather high-profile. You aren’t worried that, if this gets out, you’ll be exiled from those shiny business towers you lounge around in?”

Masaomi snorted. “I’m at the point where people need to worry about pissing _me_ off. But not that I’d be public about it, after all, you and Youji are in the military, which seems more of a risk.”

She had considered that. And then she had put that consideration aside because while there were other jobs out there, there were not other Shiroris and Youjis. “I know the risks,” she said simply.

“And Shiori has told me she is fine with the risks. After all, this is probably one of the least scandalous things a mangaka could get involved in,” said Masaomi. “Artists, you know.”

Hinami bit back a laugh at that, because she had also thought the same thing.

Then a very serious thought occurred to her. One that could derail this entire thing.

“Masaomi, I want to have children with Youji. And for Shiori to be the other mother, if possible.” It seemed so odd to state that when all of this was so new, but she couldn't picture a future any other way. If they were going off the deep end, maybe, she might as well put it all on the table. 

“Are you asking me how this genetically works?” said Masaomi. “I’ve never given this talk but I’m sure I’ll do fine on the first try.”

Hinami sighed. “You hate children. I heard you once call them ‘germ-ridden potato sacks, except potatoes are useful.’”

“I stand by that. However, I have also considered this.” Masaomi looked at Hinami, now deeply serious. “Has Shiori told you? About…” He trailed off, watching her closely.

“Yes,” said Hinami. “Which is why I want her to be the other mother. Equal to me. I would be the one who’s pregnant, but I would want the child to see her as they see me. Could you share Youji with not only me, but also share Shiori, and have a child- or children– involved in your life?”

“I think you’re underestimating what I’m willing to put up with to have Youji and Shiori stay in my life, and stay as close as possible to me.”

“I don’t think you’ll stay, that’s the problem,” replied Hinami bluntly. “I’ve never seen you stay with anyone for very long, and then you’re unbearably cruel to them after. I don’t see how Youji and Shiori aren’t a passing fad for you.”

Masaomi propped his chin up on his hands. “I understand why you see me that way. But consider this. I’ve been with Youji since he and I met when we were teenagers and have consistently stayed as close as possible to him since. If I had bored of him early on, I’d have left a good while ago. And have you ever known Shiori to put up with anyone who wasn’t sincere about her? You and I both know when it comes to cruelty, she almost has me beat. If she thought me insincere, she would have cut me down a good while ago.”

Hinami wouldn’t call it cruelty, but she did know that when Shiori bit, she bit hard. And some actions in Shiori’s past she disapproved of, but she accepted them. It was hard not to wholly accept Shiori, once Hinami had been caught in her depths. 

Ah. Cruelty. Another question she had for this man.

“You’ve been very vicious in the past,” she said. “To me, in fact.”

“For which I apologized,” pointed out Masaomi.

“Hm. Yes. Regardless, I refuse to entangle myself with someone that continues on like that.”

Masaomi waved his hand, as if his temperament wasn’t a concern. “Charming you think that Shiori wouldn’t have already muzzled me.”

Hinami could not restrain her laughter at that. “What?”

"You can ask her if you'd like," said Masaomi, dead serious. "She told me if she and I were ever to be together, I'd need to be good."

"That's impossible," said Hinami. She could not imagine the man before her ever fitting any definition of 'good'.

"You're welcome to tell that to Shiori yourself," he said, and then Hinami understood. 

"You... you're actually serious." 

"Quite. I'm not defanged, but muzzled? Yes," he said. 

"This is... some kind of game to you, surely," said Hinami, almost helplessly. "I don't understand. I don't understand _you_. You could have anything in the world without the price of being good, and yet you're paying it anyway."

"Wrong. I cannot have Shiori without the price of being good," corrected Masaomi.

"Youji would take you as you are now," said Hinami, and her stomach clenched at that, because the thought of having Shiori but not Youji was just as painful as not having Shiori. 

"Yes. So let's do that then, you take Shiori, I take Youji, and we go on our merry ways, have different lives, always glancing over our shoulders and wondering what if."

Hinami flinched. Because she had imagined that scenario, flipped around, turned inside out, and it made her feel like wringing her hands and sitting down somewhere to cry. 

"Hinami," said Masaomi, and Hinami realized then how weird it was that they were using each other's first names, but then again, they were each other's secret-keepers - how could they not share that level of intimacy, despite it all? "Hinami, I'm not asking you to make a decision on it now. But I am asking you if you will at least consider letting the four of us talk together about it, at least once."

"Do Shiori and Youji know? Have they talked about it?" asked Hinami.

Masaomi shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe they've gone off on their own and gotten married, despite not being in love, and we're here, a bit behind the times." 

Everything was confusing and hopeful and bizarre. Hinami had to laugh. She wasn't sure there were any other options. 

\-----

Youji sat on Shiori's couch, clutching a cup of tea. "So..."

"We're both in love with the same people," said Shiori, cutting to it. She placed her teapot on the table, as well as a few of the small delicacies for tea. After all, she had a very important guest over. 

Youji looked down, and then smiled. "Yeah." He breathed out, the tension releasing from his chest. "I feel like I'm supposed to feel angry or jealous or something," he said. "But I think I'm just happy that it's you. Because I don't think I'd trust sharing this secret with anyone else."

Not for the first time, Shiori felt a kinship with Youji that she didn't feel with Masaomi or Hinami, and that's why she said, "Youji, I think this could work." 

Youji blinked at her. "Oh? Really? Have you done this sort of thing before?"

Shiori shook her head. "No, but look, if we can sit here, and talk like this about the two people we love, surely that bodes well." 

"I don't know how to go about all of this," said Youji. "And I don't think Hinami would be okay with it."

"Do you find her to be someone who would be jealous?" asked Shiori.

"I don't think it'd be jealousy that would be a problem," said Youji, his voice tinged with sadness. He drank from the cup, gathering his thoughts. "I don't think she could ever agree to anything that involves Masa-chan." 

"I don't think that will be as much as a problem as you think it will be," said Shiori. "More tea?"

"Ah- yes please," said Youji, a bit bemused as he held out his cup. "Did you talk to her about it?"

"No, I talked to him, but only in reference to him and I ever dating," she said, filling Youji's cup. "Careful, it's hot."

"What did he say?" asked Youji, cradling the delicate cup close to him. This all felt so surreal, but somehow Shiori being so calm about it made everything seem possible. 

"I told him that I needed him to be good, and to be kind, and to help more than he hurt." said Shiori calmly, and Youji coughed, spilling a bit on his hands. He awkwardly wiped it on his shirt. 

"He agreed to that?" Youji's mind was swimming through the conversation he had once had with Masaomi about changing for love. "Really?"

Shiori nodded. "Presumably. But the context has changed, it likely requires reassessment. But I don't think this challenge would change much if we added a few more people to the equation. It still would be one of my requirements."

"I... I wouldn't ask for that, I think," said Youji. "Not that you can't, I mean."

She nodded. Her eyes met his firmly, and he felt like he was being examined, carefully, the way someone would hold a piece of jewelry to assess its value. 

"Youji, you seem worried."

"I... I don't want to cause trouble," he said hesitantly. "I'm okay just being friends with them if it means keeping them in my life."

"You could have more," said Shiori softly. "Youji, they both want us. We both want them."

"We don't know that they do," said Youji, almost begging for confirmation. 

"Youji, I saw that kiss with Masaomi- which, thank you for that-" and Youji laughed- "and then Hinami talked to me later on how she felt about you. I know this can go somewhere."

"And if it goes straight to hell?" asked Youji, his voice breaking. "We're just four shattered people who can't date any of each other after?"

"Who's to say that we wouldn't shatter in any other configuration?" asked Shiori, pushing back. "Or would you rather I take Masaomi, and you take Hinami, and we walk separate paths for the rest of our lives, while we wonder what could have happened, if we had only opened our mouths and voiced our desires."

He felt sick at the idea of leaving Masaomi behind. And he also didn't like the idea of not being as close to Shiori. Having Hinami was a dream, one he'd yearned for years upon years. 

"It feels greedy," said Youji, his voice full of sorrow. "Like trying to grab so many things with your hands that you actually drop everything."

"Youji," said Shiori softly, smiling. "We'd be helping each other hold it all."

\--------

"Okay so... what now?" asked Hinami, looking around the table at the other three. "Do we just... go about our lives, except now we're just dating two people?"

"That sounds about right," said Masaomi, shrugging. "Did you expect it to be more complicated?"

"Well... yes?" Hinami didn't know what to think. She had been raised in a regular Japanese family, expecting to one day marry a man and have children. Technically, she supposed, she was still on that path, but now with an added girlfriend, and the man she picked had a boyfriend.

(_Girlfriend. _She'd never had a _girlfriend_ before. The word made her stomach jump, like it was surprised, every time she thought it.)

“You’ve got your face on,” said Masaomi to Youji, who had been darting his eyes around the table but saying nothing. His expression was off, worried.

“I always have a face on, Masa-chan.” Youi then sighed and said, cautiously, “I don’t have much to contribute, I’ve never done this before.”

“None of us have,” said Shiori, placing her hand on Youji’s. “If you don’t want this, you can say so, you know.”

“No, I want this,” said Youji, firmly. “I really, really do, okay? That’s why-“ and he clammed up, freezing.

“If there was any time to voice your feelings, Youji, it’s really now,” said Shiori, her voice firm but patient. “This won’t work unless everyone is on board.”

“I’m _too_ on board,” he said, his voice hoarse. “This doesn’t feel like it should be possible, to get them both.”

Hinami and Masaomi glanced at each other, starting to realize this felt more like a one-one conversation between Shiori and Youji.

But it wasn’t. It was the four of them.

“Youji, we’re all invested in this, or else we wouldn’t be here,” said Hinami, reaching under the table to put her hand on his leg.

“I mean, let’s discuss the elephant in the room – you think this won’t work because Hinami and I don’t get along,” said Masaomi plainly.

Youji huffed out a breath. “I mean, yeah, that’s part of it. I don’t want anyone to feel… forced into this.”

“Well, that part is solved. Hinami and I agreed that this would be worth exploring. Do you doubt our resolves? Do you honestly think we could be pushed into something we don’t want to do?”

Youji looked up at the two people he loved. They gazed back, and he felt overwhelmed, suddenly small in the face of the strong, determined people he fell for. Doubting their resolves felt like blasphemy.

If he knew anything in this world, it was that Akashi Masaomi loved him, and not just in the platonic way he had known before.

And if he could see anything plainly in this world, it was that Kasamatsu Hinami was not one who could be broken to go against her resolve, even by Masaomi.

“Okay,” he said, softly. He felt Masaomi reach under the table to squeeze his leg too, but then nearly jumped as he felt Masaomi’s hand land on top of Hinami’s. There was a series of yelps and confusion as Shiori laughed, having guessed what was going on, and something lifted in Youji’s chest, making him think, _Oh god, could this work? Could this be something?_

“I don’t even know how it would play out,” said Hinami after she and Masaomi had arranged their hands to be on each of Youji’s legs. “Not that I don’t want to try, it’s just, it seems all kind of abstract right now.”

“Let’s do a scenario then,” said Masaomi. “We all come home from work. It’s a Tuesday night. What do we do?”

“This feels patronizing,” said Hinami, narrowing her eyes. “But I assume we just… have dinner.”

“Yes,” said Masaomi. “And then?”

Youji shrugged. “Watch TV? Work out?”

“Read,” supplied Shiori, tapping her elegant nails on the table. “Or draw.”

“And I’d probably find time to be in my lab,” said Masaomi. “Hinami, I know you’d be off saving cats out of trees and fighting kidnappers, but if you were at home, what would you be doing?”

“When have I ever- ugh. Anyway, probably reading or watching TV,” she said, playing along because everything was already so weird, she might as well.

“And then we go to bed,” said Masaomi. “The only hard part about that is who goes to whose bed but surely we can make a schedule or something.”

Hinami flushed slightly at this. She had thought about how _that_ would all work but hadn’t wanted to breach the question. “Well – what if one of us wants a date night with someone? Do we just schedule that too?”

“A group calendar wouldn’t be amiss,” said Shiori thoughtfully. “Also, this is jumping ahead. It assumes we all live together. We should try this separately for at least a few months, and we can just try to communicate very clearly who is doing what with who when so no one gets confused or hurt.”

“I’d prefer that as well,” said Masaomi, nodding. “It’ll take a bit of time to construct the ideal house for this anyhow…”

They continued talking logistics for a while, mentioning what this house might look like, who has what weekdays free, who gets weekends, and after a while, Hinami just couldn't help it. She started to laugh.

“Is there something funny about us working dates around Shiori’s upcoming deadline?” asked Youji, tilting his head in confusion.

“No, no,” said Hinami, shaking her head. “It’s just… I can’t believe my boyfriend is talking to my girlfriend about her upcoming deadline that’s an illustrated yaoi doujin about my boyfriend and his boyfriend.”

“Yaoi book about what now?” gasped Youji, aghast, and Shiori started laughing too, and Masaomi as well. No one could answer Youji’s pleas because they were lost to the situation, unable to restrain this dam of joy and wonder that broke.

_My boyfriend. My girlfriend. His boyfriend. Her boyfriend. _Hinami’s thoughts swirled in her head, and it was beginning to seem more and more real with every breath she took. 

\-------

The world, somehow, did not collapse after Hinami's entire perspective on dating and love was deeply challenged. 

They told a select few people what they were trying to do -for example, their friends at the base (Michiru, in a fit of screaming, accidentally let it out that there had been a base-wide bet going on about who would get with who, and apparently the odds of 'they all four get together' were so low that Setsuna found herself to be quite flooded with cash when the truth was announced). They also told as Kobayashi, who probably needed to know what was going on and probably shouldn't have to find it out secondhand. He, apparently, had made the "they will never figure their shit out" bet and sorely gave his money to a grinning Setsuna.

And then everything sort of settled, and it was... weirdly normal. 

There were dates, and sometimes group hangouts, and while at first it was odd to try to manage the threads of the configuration, Hinami realized that it was easier to just let go and see what happened versus trying to make sense of it all. The logistics were easier than anything else- they all got tested for STIs, discussed birth control and protection, figured out who had who for what nights, noting which date places they would need to not make it obvious that they were seeing multiple people, and so on. 

It wasn't until after six months had passed was there a shift. They were all together in the opera house lobby, waiting to see a show that Shiori had a friend performing in. The opera house bar they were at was sleek and elegant, and Hinami couldn't tear her gaze away from Shiori in a shimmery dark blue evening gown, or Youji in an exceptionally well-fitted tux. _How did I get so lucky?_ she wondered, bringing her drink up for a sip. 

"So the house is done," said Masaomi, casually, and Hinami choked on her drink, trying to ignore the agony of alcohol up her nose. 

"The what?"

"The house we discussed back when we all first talked about 'this', Hinami, keep up," said Masaomi cheekily. "Anyhow, it looks fantastic, but I feel that's for you all to decide if you actually like it. I am biased, I did design it. Which means it's perfect, but, regardless." 

"So soon?" asked Hinami, when she actually meant to say was, "_Oh god, oh god, that means this is real." _

"True, we never put a date on it," said Masaomi, shrugging. 

"I'd be curious to see it, but Hinami, if you're worried, we can put it off," said Shiori as she leaned (_unfairly gracefully, _thought Hinami) against the bar, her wineglass hanging from her fingertips. 

"I would like to live with Masa-chan again, but not if everyone isn't on board," said Youji, nursing his drink, looking up somewhat cautiously at them all.

"Youji, your opinion matters here too," said Shiori firmly, casting a stern glance at Masaomi who was about to open his mouth to say the same sentiment, albeit in a strong way not meant for their current setting. 

"No, no, let's see it," said Hinami. She hadn't lived in a house with people she deeply loved since... 

Well, since her parents. 

_This isn't like you're replacing them_, she thought bitterly to herself, looking down into her wineglass. 

"Tomorrow then?" said Masaomi. 

_That's too soon, _screamed the voice in Hinami's head that sounded suspiciously like herself at sixteen, raw from the grief. "Sure," said the voice of Hinami at twenty-four, still grieving, always grieving, but learning to move on. 

\-----

The house was, of course, amazing, extremely well built, spacious but not cavernous, clean but not minimalist, and an balanced mix of Western and Japanese. She vaguely remembered putting in some input on this theoretical house during some discussions early on, mentioning she preferred tatami mats in her bedroom, while Shiori had stated she preferred carpets. As they toured the house, she noticed that everyone's inputs had been considered and most had been worked in. It was fully furnished, exquisitely decorated, and honestly, perfect.

Hinami was batshit terrified. 

"I propose a trial," said Masaomi as they sat down at the kitchen. "One month of living here, to see how it goes. If that's good, we keep going. Two months, three months, etc. We go to work, run errands, go on dates, all of that. If someone backs out after the trial times, we don't live together. Easy as that."

"If everyone else is in, I'm in," said Youji.

Shiori smiled. "I feel ready."

Hinami's inner voices balked and raged. She looked around the table at her lovers, and at the man who somehow, against all odds, forged a pact with her that let her have all this, in the wildest, weirdest way. 

She had to try. She had to open herself up to having family again. 

"Yeah. Yeah, let's try it."

\---

It felt like a weird, hazy dream that Hinami didn't want to wake up from.

As they said, they all went to work, ran errands, and behaved as they normally would, but it was together, in the same house. 

It just felt... right. She couldn't describe it any other way, but coming in to see Shiori sketching on the couch while Youji dozed next to her made her feel like she should just expect this, have this, of course this was the way it was meant to be. 

There were the awkward moments too, of course - she wasn't quite sure what to do the first time she overheard Masaomi and Youji talking in the living room from the kitchen, and then suddenly they were kissing, completely lost in each other's orbit. _Do I leave the kitchen? _she wondered as she stirred her coffee, realizing that they may not have noticed her presence there, given she had quietly padded in with her slippers a few minutes ago. She decided to accidentally-on-purpose drop her spoon on the counter, and heard them jolt apart in the living room, Youji coughing awkwardly and Masaomi snickering. 

And of course there was the time when Shiori and Masaomi had stumbled into Masaomi's bedroom, caught in a moment of passion, only to realize that Youji had fallen asleep on Masaomi's bed during a nap earlier and they accidentally collapsed on top of him because they didn't bother to stop to flick on the light. Hinami heard about that when she got home from running errands and nearly cried with laughter. 

Because they all had their own rooms, there were fewer arguments over cleaning and chores than she had experienced with roommates in college (also due in part to a cleaner coming by once a day to do all of the tidying and dishes, something that she probably would never get used to but hey, if Masaomi was paying...) So honestly, she was waiting for a shoe to drop, something to go horribly amiss that would make her scream, "Nope, nope, I'm out, I'm out!"

But it didn't come. Everything clicked nicely, and she felt that even if something were to go wrong, it might even be fixable. 

Some nights it'd just be two of them, and not always the ones in love with each other. Hinami once spent a not-unpleasant evening reading while Masaomi worked on something at the dinner table. 

"Why aren't you in your lab?" asked Hinami, curious. They had been absent-mindedly snacking from the same bowl but hadn't talked much during the hours they were there. 

Masaomi didn't look up from his papers as he said, "It's nice being able to see them when they get home, isn't it?" 

If someone had asked her six months ago if Akashi Masaomi was capable of sentimentality or romance, she would have laughed them out of the room. The words 'callous monster' came to mind. But now? 

She's seen him have tea ready for Shiori when she came out of the shower in the mornings. And she remembers the conversation she was never meant to overhear, of the two men in the sanctity of a hospital room, tending to Youji's wounds. She hadn't understood what she'd heard then, but now she does. 

_He's capable of great evil, and great kindness. What did he tell me? He was muzzled but not defanged? _

"I see," she said, noncommittally. "They're out running errands together, right?"

"Something weirdly domestic like that, yes," said Masaomi, flipping over the page he was reading.

"Well, I was planning on being with Shiori for the evening, if that doesn't interfere with your plans." Hinami took another snack from the bowl, curious to see Masaomi's reaction. 

"Not at all, I plan to take Youji roughly at the door when he comes in," replied Masaomi. "Does that interfere with your plans?" 

Hinami bit back a snort. "Oh he'll like that." _What the hell am I doing? Casual conversation about sex with Akashi Masaomi? _

"He's rather transparent about these things, isn't he?" said Masaomi casually, and Hinami was about to respond when there was a shuffling noise at the front entrance. They then heard Youji and Shiori's voices chatting happily, closing the door behind them.

Masaomi and Hinami looked up at each other, and in an odd moment of solidarity, grinned and headed towards their lovers. 

\-----

When Hinami came in the door on the last day of the month trial, she slipped off her shoes and she called out "I'm home!" out of habit. 

And then was suddenly greeted by three "WELCOME HOME!" cheers, and then raucous laughter.

"What is going on?" she asked, coming into the living room to see the three others sitting at the dining room table, a bottle of sake out with four small cups and some snacks. 

"You will not believe what Michiru did today," laughed Youji. "Oh man, of all days for you to be sent across town." 

"How could you be surprised that she did it?" asked Shiori, her eyes alight with mischief. 

"It's not _surprise, _I just didn't think she would really go that far-"

"Alright, start from the beginning," said Hinami, sliding down into a chair that Masaomi pulled out for her in a surprisingly gentlemanly manner. "Last I heard she wasn't happy about her office being moved."

"Alright, so, it's eleven A.M and no one has seen Michiru all morning," started Youji, and like gears shifting against each other, everyone clicked into place at the table. Shiori stood up and got water for Hinami, pushing the bowl of snacks towards her at the same time. 

The story went on as Youji gestured and occasionally clarified ("So yes, there was a chinchilla involved, but that doesn't come in until later, after the confetti-"). Hinami was laughing herself nearly sick, and she noticed with an odd sense of joy that Shiori was leaning against Masaomi while also holding Hinami's hand.

She wasn't jealous. It wasn't her style. But she also wasn't concerned, the way she had been in the past when she thought of Masaomi getting involved with Shiori. In fact, she realized, she'd lost that fear a decent bit ago. 

_When did that happen?_

"Hm, we should probably have some dinner with this," said Shiori, realizing that they had gone through a decent portion of the sake bottle. 

"We can order something, there's a good good curry place down the road," said Masaomi, getting up to grab the phone. "Do not continue this story without me, Youji, we haven't even gotten to how the chinchilla is involved yet." He took the takeout menus from the kitchen drawer, flipping through them, calling out food items and getting everyone's orders down. 

Forty minutes later, the food had arrived and the story had completed, and everyone was nearly crying with laughter. 

"And then Kobayashi went home early, someone got the chinchilla, and Michiru has her office back," said Youji, finishing back taking a long drink from his sake cup. "Man. What a great day."

"I mean, for you and Michiru, not for the ten people who had to deal with the chinchilla and confetti," said Shiori, dramatically flourishing her chopsticks. 

"Is she keeping the chinchilla?" asked Hinami, breathing regularly enough to speak now after laughing so hard. 

"Not sure but apparently Sayuri loves it so possibly," said Youji, shrugging. "I mean, I'm kind of fond of chinchillas after this, it doesn't like an awful idea."

Shiori snickered and leaned her head against Masaomi's shoulder again, who looked at her fondly. Youji reached for the shared boxes of takeout, winking cheesily at Hinami. 

It wasn't a dramatic moment, Hinami thought, as she looked at the three of them. The decision wasn't like a lightning bolt, or an act of God. 

It was the gentle thought that she wanted to come home every night to Shiori reading on the couch, or Youji working out, or, weirdly enough, having Masaomi around, because he made Shiori and Youji so happy. This feeling of family, having a home, people who both were reliable but also relied on her. 

It was the quiet idea, the voice in her head, that said, bravely, _I want to keep this. _

"Let's do it." 

"Get a chinchilla?" asked Youji. "I've never had a pet but it could be fun."

"No, no," said Hinami, waving her hands, gesturing at the table. "_This_. Let's do this." 

The table fell silent as Youji's eyes widened and hope flashed across his face. Shiori lifted her head from Masaomi's shoulder, who had frozen still when Hinami had spoken.

"Are you sure?" asked Shiori. "We don't have to make a decision right away. We can do more trial months."

"No," said Hinami, shaking her head. "I know it's me that's been the question mark here, but if anyone else wants to do the other trial months, we can. If not, I'm in." 

"I'm ready whenever," said Youji. "I mean, I already lived with Masa-chan before." 

"Except we weren't fucking then," commented Masaomi, to which Youji sighed and said, "Okay, yes, true. So it'll be better this time around."

"I am prepared as well," said Shiori. "Let's give it the night to sleep on it, and if you feel that way in the morning, we'll start making the moving arrangements." 

Hinami knew she wouldn't need the night to sleep on it, but the later events of the night later on certainly didn't hurt her opinion on the matter. She fell asleep, curled up next to Shiori, thinking, _I want this, I want this._

_I have this. _

\-----

"Oh your wife was right! He looks just like his father," cooed the nurse. "The eyebrows especially. He'll look so handsome when he's grown."

Youji was staring down at his son. His eyes were wide, and while someone who didn't know him well might mistake it for awe, Masaomi did not.

It was panic, the kind of panic that happens when someone is holding a bomb and can't find the way to deactivate it. 

Masaomi swiftly stood up and, in an act that even surprised himself, scooped Yukio out of his father's arms and plopped him into Shiori's arms, who had opened them the second that Masaomi had stood up.

(She had been watching Masaomi, not Youji, during all of this. The woman denied being a witch, but he'd swear she had some magic running through her veins.)

"We're heading out for a moment," said Masaomi. "Youji, come along now."

"Wait a moment!" exclaimed the nurse, scandalized, but they were gone before she even got to the last word.

Masaomi dragged Youji through the hallways, looking around for an open room, an office, a fucking closet, anything so they could have a private talk. Youji, wordlessly, trailed behind. 

They finally came across a small hospital room in a corner, and Masaomi threw Youji inside. 

"Sir, you can't go in there-" started a nurse behind him, but Masaomi didn't even turn around as he said, "Look me in the eye and tell me if you think I give a shit" before slamming the door. 

"You didn't actually give him a chance to look you in the eye, you know," said Youji, who was still standing. His face looked very, very lost. 

"If he comes back crying I'll buy the damn hospital and fire him," snapped Masaomi. "Sit down." 

Youji obediently sat down in one of the chairs.

"Yukio looks exactly like you," said Masaomi, cutting to the quick. Youji flinched. 

"I know," he whispered hoarsely. "Masa-chan, he's got my exact face. I didn't want that."

"You don't get to pick your kid's looks, Youji," said Masaomi. "Genetics are Pollock paintings of the colors from you and Hinami. He just got a lot of Youji paint, apparently. Although we haven't seen the kid's eyes yet. They could be Hinami's." 

Youji put his head between his hands. "I wouldn't have wished my face on anyone. Fuck."

Masaomi dragged his chair over to Youji's and took Youji's hands away from his face. "You can get all of your breakdown out here in this room but when you step back into that room, you're a father. You're going to give that little potato one hundred percent of your parenting capabilities."

Youji looked up into Masaomi's eyes, and they were still panicked. Masaomi suspected they wouldn't be leaving this room for a while. 

'Hinami told me she wants more kids. Like, four kids. But I can't give her more, because what if they look like me again? What if my genes are so stupid and strong we just get a bunch of fucking _Yamazaki_ clones-" and he spat that word out, his voice rising in anger for the first time since they entered this room, "-instead of kids that don't look fucking evil?"

Masaomi could have touched on about ten different things regarding that paragraph but decided to stay the course. "Youji, appearances don't carry moral traits. There aren't morality genes. I have a PhD in this. I know. Hinami likes your face. I like your face. If we agree on something, then it's true, since we never agree on anything."

And that's when Youji's face turned from panicked to manic, and Masaomi took on some of that transferred panic.

"Masa-chan," breathed Youji, his face lighting up. "Oh Masa-chan, you solved the problem!"

"There wasn't a _problem_ to begin with," said Masaomi very slowly, reaching out to hold Youji's hands, not in a romantic way, but in a 'You might bolt out of this room and do something absolutely stupid unless I've got a hold on you' way. 

"You and Hinami can have kids!" whispered Youji. "Oh it's perfect. Oh my god. Why didn't we think of this sooner?"

"_We_?" screeched Masaomi. "Youji, you might have fantasies about Hinami ripping your dick off and throwing it into a pit of wolves, but I _don't_ and that is the only possible outcome of suggesting this to her-"

"But don't you see?" said Youji, gripping Masaomi's hands. "I love you both so much. And if you two had a kid, with your intelligence and her strength and both of your looks, I could love that kid, I would love them so much-"

"Youji," Masaomi pleaded. "Stop for a second. Breathe. Stop. I am not going to impregnate Hinami. Think of her face if you tell her you want her to have sex with me." Masaomi had to fight down the roiling ocean of terror in his stomach at the thought of that conversation. 

Youji shook his head. "They've got that- that in-vitro stuff-"

Jesus, he was _actually considering it_. 

"Youji," said Masaomi firmly. "Stop."

Youji stopped talking. His eyes were huge, his face tense, and he looked to be walking on the edge of a breakdown. Or maybe he was already there. 

"I'm not going to have kids with Hinami. You are. You're her husband, you're going to give her the big family she asked for." 

"But-" started Youji, and Masaomi pressed a hand against his mouth. 

"No. Listen. If you treat that kid as anything other than your beloved son, she will know, and she will _lose her shit_ at you. Do you think Hinami puts up with anything she loves being mistreated?"

"I wouldn't hurt him!" cried out Youji, pushing Masaomi's hand away. "You think I'd-"

"No, you wouldn't hit him or anything. But if you avoided him, or couldn't look at him, or hold him, that's neglect, and that's shitty. And she'd call you on it, maybe even leave, and all because you hate the inevitable path of genetics."

Youji blinked. "I don't know what to do," he said, his voice trembling. "Masa-chan, help me." 

And Masaomi hated seeing Youji like this, in a way he only got when it came down to his past and his own body, and why he couldn't look in mirrors. It made him want to hunt down whatever hell pit that Youji had clearly escaped from, burn it to the ground, and bring the ashes back as an offering of his devotion.

But this wasn't the time for that. He had to be clear on this. Because as weird as it was, he knew Hinami, and knew her well, and this could only end poorly unless Youji was set straight now.

"You have a chance to give a kid with your family features a loving father. Let him have it. You're going to go back in that room and be the best father you can be. And you _can_ be a good one. I saw you make the crib, and get all of the baby equipment, and you actually enjoy being with your coworkers' little brats. You _can _do this. You _will _do this. Got it?" 

Youji looked down at his hands, held very tightly in Masaomi's. "Yeah. I can be a dad for him. But what if I fuck it up, even if I try and love him?"

Masaomi wasn't entirely convinced they were ready to leave the room yet, but at this point it was likely getting suspicious, and Hinami might be back from wherever they had wheeled her after the birth. He had to wrap this up. "You've got time. From what I know, babies don't have a personality for a while, and if both Shiori and Hinami are also raising him, he'll turn out fine. Loving him and fucking up is better than not loving him at all because that's just pre-determined fucking up."

Youji snorted. "Why does that make so much sense?"

"Because I'm a genius. Obviously." Masaomi felt they could probably leave the room now, but needed to reassure Youji one last time. "Youji, I love you. The fact that I am letting a baby, and probably future ones, exist in our house is a sign of how much I love you and Shiori. We're all making sacrifices here. This can be yours. Let go of how much you hate your face and go in that room, take your kid from Shiori, and love the shit out of it."

Youji laughed, his voice losing the maniacal edge slightly. "Okay. Okay. Let's... go back now." 

Masaomi stood up and pulled Youji up along with him. "Glad you came to your senses." 

When they entered the room, Hinami was thankfully not back yet, but the nurse who had originally saw them leave was still there, glaring daggers as Masaomi. "Where were you?" she snapped at them. 

"Fucking, obviously," said Masaomi dismissively, and the nurse glowered at him. He looked over at Shiori, who was handing over Yukio to Youji with a smile on her face. 

"He's a lovely little boy," said Shiori, gazing up calmly into Youji's eyes. 

"Thank you," said Youji, who cradled the baby to his chest. Yukio solemnly looked up and blinked at Youji, who startled. 

"Oh. He's..." Youji stammered. "He's got Hinami's eyes." 

Shiori glanced over at Masaomi, who made the 'I'll catch you up later' face at her. He restrained himself from laughing at her 'were you really fucking?' disapproving face.

And then he looked at Youji, who still looked scared, but also, slowly, adapting to his new role as a father. He looked still scared, but less so in the 'what will I do now?' way and more in the 'I am holding the most precious, fragile thing on the planet, oh my god, who let me hold this' face, which was infinitely better. 

\--------

Wednesday nights were designated 'family meeting' nights, if only for thirty minutes, because otherwise important things (such as "You're getting shipped out for three months soon???") ended up getting miscommunicated. 

Youji was holding Yukio, adjusting his bottle as the rest of the parents settled onto the couches. The TV was quietly running in the background, with the usual horrifying evening news. 

"So here's the vaccination schedule the doctor gave us when we left the hospital," said Shiori, shuffling through some papers in her 'baby information' folder. "I think we can make an appointment next Tuesday, and hopefully complete a general checkup at the same time. I definitely want to get his immunizations out of the way, I don't want to have to deal with the chicken pox if I don't have to."

"Ugh, yeah, that was the worst," sighed Hinami. "I don't remember much but I remember oatmeal and calimine lotion for days."

"What's that?" asked Youji, tilting his head. 

"Chicken pox? You probably got it when you were like, really young," said Hinami. "Or maybe you got the vaccination?"

Youji shook his head. "Oh, I hadn't been to a doctor until the military physical exams. And I don't remember going through chicken pox, or whatever."

The room fell silent.

"Sorry, Youji, did you say you had never been to a doctor until you were... twenty-two?" clarified Shiori, furrowing her brow. 

"Oh, yeah. I mean, I think I recover pretty quickly from stuff so it was never an issue, you know?" said Youji. Yukio snuffled a bit, and Youji removed the bottle. "Ah, are you full?" He put the bottle aside and occupied himself with Yukio as the other adults looked at each other, horrified. 

"Youji," said Hinami, sounding mildly hysterical, "Youji, are you vaccinated?" 

"I... don't think so," he said, honestly. "Is that bad? I never really get sick."

"Youji, if you're not vaccinated, you could spread disease to Yukio, who won't have specific vaccines for a while, or natural immunities," said Masaomi, oddly gentle. Shiori noted that Masaomi had not reacted at all when Youji said he'd never seen a doctor before the military. 

Youji froze, and stopped looking at Yukio. He instead looked at Masaomi, face pale. "What?" 

Hinami resisted the urge to get up and pull Yukio out of Youji's arms. It was irrational, she knew, but she didn't know what else to do. 

"Youji, after this conversation, we're going to my lab and vaccinating you," said Masaomi calmly. "Just so you know."

"Um... okay," said Youji, looking helpless, something that normally only came up now when it involved Youji's background. "Should I... not be holding him?"

"You're fine," said Masaomi sharply. "But if we're getting his vaccinations next Tuesday, I'm going to vaccinate you tonight."

"Let's go do that now," said Youji, nervous, and he plopped sleepy Yukio into Shiori's arms. Masaomi grabbed him by the arm, guiding him as they left the room.

"Shiori," said Hinami, her voice breaking. "What the fuck?"

"This certainly is getting filed away in the 'more reasons to believe Youji was raised in some weird cult' folder," agreed Shiori, nestling Yukio close to her. "Yukio will be fine. We would have seen if something had been affected him already." 

"What kind of family doesn't take their child to the doctor?" asked Hinami, staring at the door her husband had left through. "What the hell?" 

"What's your theory?" asked Shiori, knowing that, like everyone in the house, they had a theory of what Youji's puzzled past could be. 

"All I've got is neglectful parents who let him watch too many martial arts movies," said Hinami, shrugging, laughing bitterly. "But I'm not that creative."

"Masa's theory is Youji was raised by escaped Gurkhas but since Youji only speaks Japanese, and not Nepali or English, it doesn't really fit." Yukio awoke and fussed, face scrunching. Shiori grabbed the bottle and put it to work. 

"And your theory?" asked Hinami. 

"Sticking with 'weird cult' for now," admitted Shiori. 

\----

"I can't find his fancy swaddle," said Hinami, frustrated, digging through the pile of baby clothes. "I thought I put it here yesterday-" 

"I washed it this morning, it's dry on the balcony now," said Shiori, fitting her own kimono on. 

"Ah good, thanks." Hinami turned around and then stopped everything she was doing. "Oh my God, Shiori." 

"Hm?" Shiori put down her hair comb and shook out her hair. "I need to start over again..."

"You should leave it down," said Hinami, still staring in awe at her wife in her elegant maroon and gold kimono. She glimmered softly with jewelry on her wrists and on her neck, and Hinami was struck by the need to touch them, touch her. 

Shiori looked up, and then raised an eyebrow. "Oh now, Hinami, we don't have time for that. Your husband already almost put us behind schedule with his own weak will. We already put off the miyamairi as far as we did, we're really skirting that hundred day rule."

"It's not his fault he'd never seen Masaomi in a jinbei before," protested Hinami. 

"You're restraining yourself right now with me in a kimono," commented Shiori, who started to put her hair up again, much to Hinami's displeasure. 

"Only barely," said Hinami honestly, and Shiori smiled slyly. 

"We'll have time for that later. Let's go find our men." 

The men were wrestling the car seat in its place as Yukio, strapped to Youji's back, waved his little arms at his mothers approaching.

"Okay, I think we've got it," said Youji, pulling back and turning to look the mothers. "_Oh my god." _

"It's definitely in there, no thanks to these garbage instructions," said Masaomi, crumpling up the booklet. "Anyway- ah, Shiori, that looks stunning on you. What a good use of my money."

"No words for me?" asked Hinami, stepping closer to her husband, who was still speechless. 

"Pretty," he managed, and she grinned, circling around him to take Yukio off his back to hand to Shiori. 

"What's the time estimate?" said Youji, settling in the front next to Hinami as Shiori and Masaomi took to the back. 

"Forty-five minutes or so, if we beat traffic there." Hinami glanced down at the map in Youji's lap. "It's been a while since I've been there but I think I remember once we get off the main highway." She cleared her throat and said, "Thanks for letting me choose the shrine." 

"Of course," said Shiori, softly, as they pulled out of the driveway. After all, Shiori was fairly sure she had not had a shrine blessing ceremony as a baby, and guessing by what she knew of Youji's past, he hadn't either. Masaomi had offered up no input of his own, which had been sufficient information. Only Hinami had any feelings towards what shrine was picked, and everyone agreed that that was fine.

"Hope everyone makes it there on time," said Hinami, glancing nervously at Youji's watch. 

"It'll be fine, if General Fujimaki is directing everyone else," said Shiori, soothingly reaching out to touch her wife's shoulder. "Just drive." 

The autumn colors breezed by as they headed out further into the mountains, on the way to the shrine where Hinami was once blessed, and soon, her son as well. 

They pulled up according to plan, the gravel road leading up to the shrine littered with red and gold leaves. Hinami breathed out a sigh of relief - it was just how she pictured it for the past eight years, ever since she stopped visiting. 

"Wow, what a beautiful shrine," said Michiru, stepping out of the car that had haphazardly parked beside them. "Really glad I didn't die on the way here before I could see it. _Setsuna._"

"You said get there on time, I got us there on time," said Setsuna, locking up the car after Shigure got out. "You didn't give any other specifics." She took Sayuri from her sister and pointed to the shrine. "Onwards!" 

The priest was waiting at the front of the shrine, hands extended. "Hinami-chan, it has been a while." Although they had arranged everything over the phone, he still seemed mildly surprised to actually see her. 

"Yes, it has been," she said, and seeing his face, older than she remembered, brought back the memories of the last time she had seen him. 

"It was a decidedly more somber occasion then," he said, kindly, and she nodded, trying to fight back the prickling in her eyes. It had been a cold, icy day in winter, and the trees had been still and dead. She remembered the excruciating quiet. 

It was quite unlike this moment, as there was excited babbling from Yukio, indignant squawking from Michiru as Setsuna teased her, and Sayuri repeating, "Tree, mama, tree!" at every tree she saw. 

"This will be a better one," said the priest, and it was then Hinami found her voice again. 

"It will." 

"So... what do we do?" asked Youji, looking around at the shrine. "I've never been to a miyamairi before." 

"Normally there are other families with their children, but not today, so you'll be the only ones," said the priest. "Come." 

After the requisite rituals to enter the temple, they set up near the front. The priest looked around and said, "Hinami-chan, can you and your husband step forward with your son?" 

"Ah," said Hinami, unsure of how to broach this with someone who had known her since she was, literally, a baby, in this very same shrine. "You see, we-" she gestured to her spouses and metamour- "we're all raising the baby together. So we're all the parents." She specifically avoided saying who was the biological father to avoid any favoritism towards her and Youji, even though some part of her wanted to both burst out laughing and scream at the idea of making a baby with Masaomi. 

Judging by his brief expression, he'd had the same thought, and she held back a snicker. 

The priest blinked. "Ah. I see! Ah... well, then," and he proceeded to continue with the rest of the ceremony, asking for all of the parents' names, eyes training on Youji longer than Masaomi after getting a good look at Yukio's face. However, he did not say anything regarding parentage, and swung the tamagushi over all of them, Yukio cooing and reaching for it. 

"The parents will now come forth and present a tamagushi to the alter after bowing," said the priest, handing them the decorated branches. "Please consider the child's future in your thoughts as you place the branch down."

From the way that they were standing, Youji went first, and quietly placed his branch down. Hinami read his expression as somewhat in awe, as if he wasn't really believing this was happening. Next was Masaomi, who looked intensely thoughtful as he bowed and placed the branch down. After that was Shiori, who looked serene, giving a calm smile to the branch as she placed it down.

Hinami, last, holding Yukio, stepped up. She looked at the other three branches on the table, and then at her own. Her heart warm, feeling like her chest was insufficient to contain it, she placed it down as well, looking up at the ceiling of the shrine to fight the tears welling up. 

"Will the grandparents now please step forward?" he said as the four parents took their step to the side of the alter. 

Setsuna, Shigure, and Michiru stepped forward, Sayuri clasping both of her parents. "That's us!" said Michiru cheerfully. The general and his wife followed behind, both of them smiling benignly. 

The priest glanced over at the six of them, and, seeing that this was a trend, rolled with it admirably and asked them to place the tamagushi upon the alter as well. Setsuna let Sayuri place the branch, and when they were all done, the priest said a few more words of blessing, ending with well wishes for the baby, who had blissfully remained calm during all of this. 

"And now for the traditional sake," said the priest, taking out the cups, pouring small amounts in each. He passed the small red cups to the everyone, and together they took a drink, the rusty red cups softly glowing in the shifting light between the leaf shadows from the trees above. 

"Is it gift time yet?" asked Michiru, eager, and the priest gave her a smile, nodding. "Great! So, you all are definitely going to need this-"

The gifts started flowing forth - a booklet of babysitting coupons from Michiru, some charming little drawings of what was supposed to be Yukio from Sayuri, and IOUs for homemade dinners from Shigure and Setsuna. 

When it came to Fujimaki and his wife's turn, Fujimaki handed them a letter. Hinami opened it, reading over it, and then blinking, wide-eyed, at its contents. 

"We didn't bring them with us, as they are quite old, but we have several hierlooms we would like to pass onto you," said the general. "Our children have several as well, but there were still more. We feel that you should have them."

"Thank you," said Hinami, her throat squeezing up tightly. She had thought she'd never receive any sort of passed down item anymore, especially not given the family situations of her partners. She'd forgone it ever being a possibility. 

"Feel free to stop by our home for dinner to get them," said the general's wife softly, and Hinami, for her family, agreed that they definitely would at some point. 

"You seem very happy," noted the priest quietly to Hinami as Yukio was passed around the circle, never left out of someone's arms. Everyone was cooing over him, and Sayuri was chanting, "Tiny baby, tiny baby," repeatedly. 

"I am happy," said Hinami, the lightness in her chest buoying her words. 

"They'd be very proud to see you here today," said the priest, and Hinami, who had been wondering about that, given the odd parenting situation she'd created, felt eased into a gentle sort of peace at the thought that this was her life, however unexpected, but gladly welcomed. 

She was, indeed, very happy. 

\------

Yukio had not slept for more than a two-hour stretch in six days. 

They had tried everything, to no avail. The last straw probably came when some nice grandmother type in the store suggested to Hinami, who was nearly crying as loud as Yukio in a particularly bad moment, "Well, why don't you simply sit down and rock him, my dear?" 

If Shiori hadn't been there to whisk Hinami away things probably would have escalated beyond Hinami snapping, "Oh, that's a new idea! Let me try something that I've been doing for _literally days-"_

After that Youji took him out on errands so that Hinami and Shiori could get some sleep, because between the three main caregivers, Youji dealt with the sleep deprivation the best, but that didn't mean it was a perfect solution. 

"The doctor says there's nothing wrong with him," said Hinami helplessly. "I don't know what to do." This would have likely sounded quiet and plaintive if not for her having to raise her voice over Yukio's insistent screaming. 

Shiori, ever patient, was rocking him, for all the good it did. "This too will pass," she said, quietly, but it was definitely for herself as well and not just for Hinami's benefit.

Youji was cooking dinner at the stove, lost in thought, something nagging at the back of his mind. He put down the spoon he was holding and said, "Hey, Hinami, can you watch the soup? I'll be back in a sec."

A few minutes later he had arrived in Masaomi's home lab, catching him while he was reading papers and jotting down notes. "Hey, question."

"I'm doing stuff," replied Masaomi, in the zone and not even looking up at Youji. 

"I can see that but I need you," said Youji, and Masaomi did look up at that, bemused. 

"Oh?" He looked down at his papers and then back at Youji. "Is this 'I need you to satisfy my carnal needs' or 'Someone called asking for the man of the house' and you didn't want to deal with that?"

"Neither. I need you to read my son to sleep." 

Masaomi's face was a mixture of horror and confusion. "What? Have the three of you forgotten how to read? Am I the only literate person left in this entire house?"

Youji sighed. "At this point, Shiori and Hinami are at their limits because Yukio won't stop crying, and I think I'm probably getting there. But remember when we were in college, and you would read your science papers out loud to me and I'd fall asleep?"

"Yes, it was very demeaning to have such an apathetic audience-"

"_That's_ what we need. If my son is anything like me he will fall asleep instantly at that." 

Masaomi both took offense at the idea that his papers were that boring and also was pleased that Youji remembered those times, because those moments were when Masaomi got to watch Youji drift off to sleep. Back in the days when he was afraid to stare too long when Youji was awake. 

"Masa-chan, please," said Youji, and Masaomi was very easily broken for something that, a few years back, he would have adamantly refused to do. He knew there would be involvements with the child when he and Hinami had laid out the terms of their agreement, and that he was compromising on this because he got to have Shiori and Youji (the fact of which he was grateful for, daily). He, internally, had even called Yukio "little compromise" when things got stressful, and he hoped he accidentally never let it slip or else Hinami would actually kill him.

"Okay but I'm not going to hold him," said Masaomi, standing up and taking a few of the papers with him. "Be prepared to hear a lot about genome sequencing." 

"I mean sure, for a few minutes, and then I'll fall asleep," said Youji as they headed out of the lab. 

Yukio was, predictably, still screaming as they entered the kitchen, and both Shiori and Hinami looked up with immense confusion at seeing Masaomi willing walking towards a crying baby. 

"Shiori, I'm hallucinating," whispered Hinami, sounding like she was nearly about to cry.

"No, it's actually me," said Masaomi, sitting down in a chair and pulling out his papers. "Yukio-kun, today we're learning about chromosome sorting." 

"Still hallucinating," said Hinami to Shiori, who was silently watching all this with interest. Yukio squirmed in her arms but she held him tightly. 

"Because new generation DNA sequencing has revolutionized many biomedical areas, we ask whether it can be adapted to solve the long-range phasing problem." Masaomi stopped reading and looked over at Yukio. "He's not asleep yet."

"Give it five minutes," said Youji, who had plopped down in a chair and had his forehead pressed against the table. "I'll make it worth your while once I get some sleep. Promise."

Masaomi sighed and continued reading."In current protocols, DNA extracted from a large number of cells is fragmented, amplified, and then, sequenced in a parallel manner. Massive parallelism allows the generation of a sufficient number of short sequences to cover the genome many times...." 

At this point, Yukio had actually stopped crying and was looking intensely at Masaomi, likely a response to rarely ever seeing him, except at dinners and in passing. Hinami blinked and looked at Youji, who shrugged and motioned for Masaomi to continue. 

"By aligning the reads, it is possible to reconstruct the two alleles in any given small region. However, phase information between parental allelic sequences in two nonadjacent regions is usually not recoverable, regardless of the number of short reads." Masaomi kept on going, getting into a rhythm now that it was actually quiet, and within five minutes, Yukio was indeed asleep in Shiori's arms, snoozing gently. 

As was the rest of the table. 

Shiori's head was tilted slightly but mostly upright as she held the sleeping baby, snuggled into her chest by the sling. Youji was completely still, forehead on the table, and Hinami was out, leaning back in the chair with her mouth slightly open. 

Seeing no real reason to stop, Masaomi continued reading the papers as he got up, switched the stove to a light simmer, put a lid on the soup, and then sat back down, reading his papers out loud until Youji woke up a few hours later. 

And thus ended the week of sleepless terror. 

After that, whenever Yukio was having a particularly bad streak of not sleeping, Youji would drag Masaomi over to read whatever papers he was looking at, and inevitably, within minutes, Yukio would conk out. 

Hinami and Shiori tried to read the same papers to Yukio, but it wasn't the same - it had to be Masaomi, for some reason. And so it went, and at some point, Masaomi had grown fond of reading scientific papers out loud. He retained the information better, found mistakes more easily, and felt more energized reading aloud than in his head. 

One day, Masaomi was studying a particularly frustrating set of papers. He had taken breaks from reading it, tried reading it out loud aloud, in his head, everything. It just didn't make sense in comparison with the most recent research, but theoretically the papers were supposed to enhance the current understandings of the latest best practices. 

There was a knock on his door, and Youji came into the room, wearing Yukio strapped to his chest. "I'm heading out to run some errands. You need anything?"

Masaomi looked at Youji for a few seconds, and then said, "Yes. I need your baby."

Youji blinked. "Wait, what? Is this some sort of 'taking your firstborn child' thing?"

"Nonsense, I'm not the witch in the house. That's Shiori. And she already has Yukio anyway." He reached out. "I'll wear the baby and you can go do errands."

Youji frowned. "Why? You hate being around Yukio."

Masaomi flinched slightly. Admittedly, he had been very avoidant at first, and vocally so, but Yukio had grown on him. He probably should show that more. He didn't want Youji and Shiori thinking that their partner hated their kid. He was trying to be good still. He would always try to be good for them. 

"Not as much as I used to," was his answer. Ugh. Not good enough. He had to be honest. It was one of their core tenants to this whole situation. "I don't mind him." Yes, that was better. 

Youji squinted. "But _why_?"

Masaomi sighed. "He's a good listener for my papers. It helps to read them out loud to him."

"Can't you read them out loud alone?"

"It's not the same." Masaomi gestured with his hands in a grabbing motion. "Baby, please." 

"He was just fed so he probably will fall asleep soon," said Youji, very cautiously unstrapping Yukio off of him and strapping him onto Masaomi. "Also, I can't believe I'm doing this, but I highly doubt you'd let Yukio die, so, I'm trusting you."

"Thanks," said Masaomi, settling Yukio in. "He doesn't throw up all the time, right?"

"I mean... occasionally but not super often," said Youji truthfully. 

He'd risk it. "Okay, off you go, bye-bye now," said Masaomi, turning back to his papers. "Our approach should be scalable to larger studies. Modern FACS instruments are capable of sorting thousands of single chromosomes into collecting wells in a very short time..."

An hour later, as Yukio dozed on his chest, Masaomi had made breakthroughs and was ecstatic. 

"Of _course_! They were using Stanford's lab samples, but the measurement sequences from Georgetown! And on top of that, the paper writing was done at St. Andrews!" He threw the papers down triumphantly. "God, what a clusterfuck. They should have stated this up front instead of making me hunt for it." Yukio sleepily awoke at the raised voice, and blinked at Masaomi curiously. 

"Okay, chibi-Youji, you have proven useful, but it's time to go now." And then Masaomi looked around and realized it was just him, and now he had to take care of the baby.

Dammit. 

Yukio started making soft burbling noises, and Masaomi deeply hoped this did not mean imminent vomiting. He picked up another paper he hadn't considered reading today and started at a part he had circled out of interest. "Using bivariate FACS sorting with Chromomycin and Hoechst staining, most chromosomes can be reliably resolved...."

Yukio dozed off again.

It was pleasant, actually - the warm weight on his chest, feeling like he had an audience but not one that could argue with his commentary. Masaomi continued reading and making critical statements about the authors of the papers until Youji returned, peeking around the door and then coming in. 

"I could hear your sigh of relief from here," said Masaomi as he put down his paper. "No, I didn't kill your baby." 

"It doesn't hurt to check," said Youji. "Was he well behaved?" 

"He's a potato, Youji, of course he was," said Masaomi. 

"I was talking to Yukio," replied Youji as he unstrapped the dozing baby from his partner. 

And so it went as Yukio grew, and eventually, he was sleeping easily through the night, so he didn't need Masaomi's soothing genomics lectures anymore. 

This turned out to be a problem for Masaomi, who found out that, in a way that programmers had their Rubber Duck method, he had his Sleepy Son Method. Talking to Yukio about his work, without being interrupted, was key to his breakthroughs. 

In the middle of writing his own paper, he ran into a wall. Rather than hashing through it on his own, he knew what he had to do. 

Masaomi marched with purpose to the living room, where Youji was sleepily blinking at Yukio, who was constructing a very unstable tower. 

"Need something?" asked Youji, rubbing his eyes. "Ugh. I should have asked for today off. I've been exhausted since I got home."

"Then sleep," said Masaomi, pulling over a chair and sitting next to Yukio. "Going to borrow your clone for a bit. I have papers to read."

Youji immediately plopped his face into the carpet, curling up around a pillow, snuggling up against his husband's back. Masaomi patted his hair for a second before getting down to reading his paper outline, gesturing at the appropriate moments and talking to Yukio animatedly. After a few minutes, Masaomi still hadn't gotten anywhere. 

"But this isn't how the data is turning out," said Masaomi, frustrated, to Yukio. The child picked up another block and stacked it higher, only occasionally glancing up at Masaomi. "Do you see, Yukio? By all accounts my results should be concurrent with her research but it just doesn't make sense. What's the wrong variable? Or is it the control group?" 

Yukio, having no level of formal education in the sciences, offered a "Buuuuuuh?" in consolation as he continued to build his tower. 

"No, it's not the variable," said Masaomi, firmly. "I'm sure of it. We've tested that over and over-" 

Yukio had now stacked four blocks, and was reaching for a fifth when he bumped it with his little hand, causing it to collapse in a tragic, sprawling mess. Yukio froze and looked at it, and then looked at Masaomi. 

"That's entirely on you. You built an unsteady foundation. You used a block that was too small to support the rest, so you got those up, but once you really needed it to stay up, it falls, see?" Masaomi quickly stacked the blocks in a better formation. "See? It's easy." 

And then all of Masaomi's internal blocks stacked into place.

"It's the _test_!" crowed Masaomi. He restacked the blocks with Yukio's original formation, and it collapsed after the third block again. "No wonder it's all wrong! The test is inherently flawed!" 

"Why is it suddenly so loud in here?" asked Hinami, coming into the room. She saw Youji napping on the floor, and Masaomi playing with the blocks as Yukio tried to eat his own fist. "What are you doing, Masaomi?" 

"Your son helped me discover a flaw in a colleague's scientific paper. Now that you're here you can congratulate him and clean up this mess." With that he sped out of the room. As he left, Yukio raised a little hand and waved goodbye. Hinami looked beyond bemused and sat down, shaking Youji awake. 

"Did you know that Yukio and Masaomi were playing with blocks together?"

Youji yawned and sat up. "Sort of? It's bonding, I'll take it."

Hinami looked at her son, who was determined to rebuild his tower again now that he regained his blocks. "Sure, I guess we could call it that."

A year or so later, their residence started receiving odd letters. They were from scientific publishing journals, which wasn't unusual, but who they were addressed to was.

"I have a letter for... Yukio?" said Youji, holding it up curiously as he sorted mail in the kitchen. "Actual, two." Yukio reached for them, babbling happily at new items to touch. 

"You know it's illegal to open other people's mail," said Masaomi, coming into the kitchen.

"I can cite multiple times you have opened other people's mail," said Youji scornfully. "Why is our son getting a letter from _The Kyoto Journal of Science and Medicine?_" 

"Hm, I'd better take that," said Masaomi. "It's meant for my co-author but until he can read I think I should handle it."

"Co-author?" asked Youji, dumbfounded. "Masaomi, he can't even speak yet. He threw a spoon at me yesterday in response to me asking him if he wanted dinner." 

"It got the point across, I assume? Limited communication ability has no bearing on usefulness to a research paper, by the way. I've worked with plenty of braindead scientists. Yukio has surpassed them all." With that, Masaomi took the letters out of the kitchen and headed to the lab. 

"Congrats, kid, you'll have a stellar resume by the time you hit grade school," said Youji to his esteemed audience, who hurled another spoon in his excitement. 

\-------

They were hitting month three of Youji being deployed and his absence was as sore as it ever was. He was due back in a few weeks, but it still hurt to think of how long it'd be before he could hold the people he loved in his arms again.

In a rare opportunity to call, he managed to get ahold of Hinami, despite the time zone difference. They spoke briefly, and she sounded beyond exhausted, so he kept it short. At the end Youji said, "Alright, well, tell Yukio I love him, okay?" 

"No. I'm mad at him."

"What?"

"He doesn't deserve it right now. Kept me up all night." She sounded extremely grumpy at this. "So, no love."

"Ah.. okay... is Shiori there? Put her on the line."

There was some shuffling, and then, "Yes, Youji?"

"Shiori, can you-"

"Yes, I'll tell Yukio you love him."

"Oh. Okay. Thank you." 

\-------

Little Yukio was about two now, and this meant that everything in the house had to be raised above hip-height so that he wasn't grabbing things off of tables and sticking them in his mouth where they ought not to be. He also had learned how to climb out of his crib, causing a 2am panic more than a few nights a week. 

Therefore, Hinami was really, _really,_ tired, and barely noticed one of the new recruits cautiously tapping her on the shoulder, going, "Sergeant Kasamatsu? Sergeant -"

"Yes, Private Hiroko?" stammered Hinami, shaking her head. She needed more sleep. Maybe she'll sleep in Shiori's bed tonight and leave Youji to deal with Yukio. Yes. That sounded infinitely better than last night. It was his turn anyway. No one was keeping count, but when she was tired, it became his turn.

"May I speak with you in private?" asked the other woman, her eyes very wide and nervous. Hinami had taken a shine to Private Hiroko, as the woman admitted to her one day that she had joined the military due to needing to support her family, and she respected that. Hiroko was quick to learn and very eager to help.

But it was unusual to be asked for a private meeting, and so, Hinami said, "Is there an immediate problem, Private? Can we address it here?"

Hiroko glanced off to the side, and Hinami followed her glance to Youji, who was doing drills with some of the new cadets. "Ah... not here, Sergeant. Please." 

Interesting.

Hinami shuffled Hiroko into her office and closed the door. "Yes, Private?" 

"Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

Hiroko looked down at the floor. "This is inappropriate, Sergeant, I know, but you have done so much for me, and it would weigh on me if I didn't tell you what I saw yesterday." 

Hinami was briefly surprised, as she suspected that this was just another private with a crush on Youji and was requesting to be transferred to his team (and he was oblivious to them all, much to the hilarity of Setsuna and Michiru, who teased him mercilessly about it). "Oh?"

Hiroko fidgeted and said, "I.... I was out in town, and was passing an onsen entrance, and saw him with another woman. She looked very well-to-do, beautiful, and was... touching his arm, you see. She seemed to know him very well. And I got the feeling he knew her very well too." 

And Hinami, with years of practiced restraint, did not explode with laughter but instead said, "I see" in a serious voice.

Because she had tried to make lunch plans with Shiori yesterday, who said, "Hmm, can't! Running errands!" and then Youji, who said, "Uh... can't! Running errands!" 

This, combined with the fact that her birthday was less than two weeks away, made her both suspicious and gleeful. 

"It's just, my friend had a baby a few years back, and in all of the sleepless nights and exhaustion, her husband lost interest in her, and it got out of hand, and I know your little one is in that stage where they're just a handful, so when I saw that, I don't know, Sergeant, but I wouldn't want you to not know." 

Ah. Well, her heart was in the right place. Her accusations were definitely not. 

"I think I know who you're talking about, Private Hiroko," said Hinami, placing a friendly hand on the private's shoulder. "I'll talk to my husband about it, as well as the woman, and in the meantime, please do keep this under wraps. It's likely nothing, I trust my husband, but you know how gossip in this place travels." Clearly not fast enough, if the new privates hadn't caught onto the open secret that was the situation that the four of them had together. 

Hiroko nodded furiously. "Of course, Sergeant! Not a word, Sergeant!" 

"Dismissed," said Hinami, and the private booked it speedily out of her office.

Hinami closed the door and sat down in her chair, and allowed herself a five-minute laugh session.

Oh, how odd her life had become.

Hinami came home to see Shiori at the dining room table, sketching while Yukio sat in his high chair, intensely inspecting a rice cracker. 

"He's been looking at it for half an hour," Shiori informed Hinami as she pulled out a chair for her lover. "I think he's counting the seeds."

"Well, that'll keep him occupied for a while," said Hinami, flopping down in the chair. "So, Private Hiroko tells me that my husband is cheating on me with a beautiful, well-to-do woman who was with him outside of an onsen yesterday."

Shiori's eyes widened. "Oh- did she-"

"She won't tell anyone else, I think, so don't worry. Although I imagine Michiru will hold it over Youji's head for months if she gets wind of it, so, if anyone else does find out, we'll know soon enough." Hinami took one of the crackers from Yukio's plate and took a bite. "You should have seen her face. She was expecting me to break down or blow up." 

"It's a wonder how anything stays quiet over there, I would assume everyone was aware of us by now," mused Shiori. "Also, your birthday surprise is ruined. We were going to give you a weekend of onsen time, given how tiring Yukio has been lately." The baby in question blinked up at them hearing his name, and then returned his interest to the deeply fascinating cracker. "So Youji and I would completely take care of him while you were out."

Hinami smiled. "How thoughtful of you two. I admit, he has been a handful lately. I just don't seem to be able to survive sleepless nights as well as Youji does."

"Count your blessings that he can," laughed Shiori. "Also, do tell me, is this an accurate representation of his abs?" She handed over her sketchbook, and Hinami studied it closely.

"A little more of a happy trail, I think." 

"Ah, of course," said Shiori, taking it back and shading it in. "How could I have missed that?" Hinami snickered as she took another cracker from her son's plate.

She knew her life was odd. But it was good, and that's what mattered. 

\-------

Given that normally their team wasn't in on Saturday mornings, it was an odd request for Kobayashi to call them in, but the business was quickly dealt with, and afterwards they hung about the base with their children, chatting aimlessly. Hinami had excused herself to find something in her office, and so it was Michiru, Setsuna, Youji, and Masaomi sitting at one of the cafeteria tables while their children played. 

"Okay, so, why are you all banned from hosting private events in the conference rooms?" asked Masaomi. 

"Because _someone_," said Michiru, tossing her hair back and looking pointedly at from Youji, "Was a bit of a lusty slut for Hinami's schedule and offered _anything_ to get it, so-"

"My _child_ is hearing this, stop-" moaned Youji, his head in his hands. 

"Yukio doesn't even know what we're saying, he's busy playing with Ryou and Shouichi," siad Michiru, gesturing to the three of them coloring under the table. 

"What if he retains it and it haunts him later in therapy?" muttered Youji. 

"That's going to be a him problem, isn't it? Anyway, Youji stripped and pole danced for my sister's bachelorette party," said Michiru triumphantly. "And I have it on video."

"Oh now Michiru," purred Masaomi, sliding over close to her. "I know that you know how valuable that tape is."

"Mhmmm," said Michiru. "I do know."

"So," said Masaomi, raising voice to be louder than the indignant squawks of Youji, "What _is_ your price?"

"He needs to do it again, for Hiroko's bachelorette party,"

"Done," said Masaomi, and they shook hands.

"Hold on a minute!" yelped Youji. "Masaomi, you can't trade my body away for something that _you_ want!"

"Youji, I don't think you understand the things that will happen to you once I get my hands on this video," said Masaomi firmly. "I _must_ have this tape."

"Can't you hack into her computer and get the video?" asked Youji desperately, entirely hurling ethics out of the window for this moment. 

"That's why I said tape, I used a video camera to film it," said Michiru. "And he can't find it anywhere digitally, nor does he even know if it's in my house. I have storage. The basement is a mess. My room is a disaster. Only I know where it is." 

"Not really something to brag over, Michiru," commented Setsuna, but she also looked very invested in all this happening. 

"What's going on over here?" asked Hinami, pausing with a stack of papers in her hands. 

"I just sold Youji's body for a tape of him pole dancing," said Masaomi cheerfully.

"Doesn't this bother you?" asked Youji to his wife, who shrugged. 

"I mean, I was there for the original pole dancing, so I think it's probably only fair that your husband gets to see it too." 

"Thank you, Hinami, for supporting my needs," said Masaomi as Youji groaned into his hands. Yukio crawled out from under the table and placed his head on his father's leg. 

"Sleepy," he said, and Youji scooped him up. _He's getting bigger_, realized Youji with a start, marveling at this little creation. 

"I'm taking Yukio to my office. Please refrain from any more -" he glanced down at his son, who was looking up at him with big eyes, "_salacious_ talk."

"Youji, you can't stop me from talking about the pineapple incident-" started Michiru, and Youji sped away before such words could infect his son.

\------

"I'm not sure what he wants," said Hinami, frowning. She shook her keys near Yukio, and he just beat his little fists on the high chair, going, "Wanna see!"

"_What_ do you want to see?" she asked, completely bemused. "Shiori, you have psychic powers, you tell me."

"If I had psychic powers, Hinami, I wouldn't have spent all last night trying to see if he was hungry or just fussy," said Shiori, who also tried her keys. 

"Mama, wanna see chan," he said to Shiori, and she sighed. 

"He's mentioned this 'chan' a few times. Is it a TV character? Imaginary friend?"

"I think he's too young for an imaginary friend," mused Hinami.

"We could be haunted," supplied Masaomi as he walked into the kitchen. "That might be fun, maybe the ghost babysits."

"Chan!" said Yukio, excitedly, and reached out for Masaomi, who tilted his head, squinting at the baby.

"Who's chan?"

The grin spreading over Hinami's face rivaled the rising sun. "Oh my god. Masaomi, it's you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Shiori, what do you and Youji call him?" Hinami could feel the laughter building in her chest. 

Her wife blinked, and then smiled, wickedness in her eyes. "We call him Masa-chan."

"Oh, no, no, the baby is not calling me _chan_, I am an authority figure, he needs to -san me-"

"Chan!" said Yukio again, looking slightly distressed now that everyone was talking and ignoring him, especially Chan himself. 

Shiori hoisted Yukio out of his high-chair and held him out to Masaomi. "Chan, your son is calling." 

"You put him up to this," grumbled Masaomi, who reached out a single finger and placed it on Yukio's head, who cooed. "I don't understand. All I do is read to him sometimes."

"Yes, Masa-chan, we conspired with a one year old to give you a specific, humiliating name, because they understand subterfuge," said Shiori, settling Yukio back into his high chair. "Well, now that Yukio's seen him, the mystery of Chan is solved."

"Hold on," said Masaomi. "You get Mom, Shiori gets Mama, and Youji gets Dad, but I get _Chan_?"

"The baby decides, and we really can't argue with that," said Hinami, enjoying this far too much. 

"Hmph. I'll be in my lab," said Masaomi, turning and heading out of the kitchen.

"Bye, Chan!" called out both Shiori and Hinami, breaking into laughter. 

"Bye, Chan!" said Yukio, and Masaomi, grudging, had to admit that it was stupidly cute. 

But not cute enough to want to hold him on a regular basis. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source for genetics paper that probably never intended to be used in fanfic but it didn't say I couldn't so, you know: Completely phased genome sequencing through chromosome sorting Author(s): Hong Yang, Xi Chen and Wing Hung Wong Source: Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America,Vol. 108, No. 1 (January 4, 2011), pp. 12-17 Published by: National Academy of Sciences Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/25770718Accessed: 10-01-2020 14:01 UTC 
> 
> Phone convo between Youji and Hinami was based on a real convo between my sister and I about my baby nieces.


	17. Poetic License

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a time-honored tradition, the revealing of the soulmate words. The day after you turned fourteen, your arm was wrapped, waiting for the words to appear, and then you revealed them, speaking them aloud for all to hear, at the Words Reveal ball that was held three times a year for high-society children.   
_What a load of garbage_, thought Shiori bitterly.  
\----  
"Your soulmate's first words to you are written on your arm" soulmate mark AU, HinaShi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have read like, 5 fics in a row of "your soulmate's first words are on your arm" and ended up here because I just got these two phrases stuck in my head and had to assign them to Shiori and Hinami.

It was a time-honored tradition, the revealing of the soulmate words. Given her status in society (despite the "unfortunate circumstances of her birth" as her nanny put it), Shiori was required to play along with the rest of the debutantes at the age of fourteen when the words flashed upon your skin. You were supposed to keep it covered until the debutante ceremony, when you revealed it. The day after you turned fourteen, your arm was wrapped, waiting for the words to appear, and then you revealed them, speaking them aloud for all to hear, at the Words Reveal ball that was held three times a year for high-society children. 

_What a load of garbage, _thought Shiori bitterly. And for those who had no phrases appear on their arm, or multiple sentences, it was just humiliating, since then your family shuttered you away with their time-honored excuses of "there must be a mistake" and whatnot. Unless you had a delicate, beautiful phrase or simple introduction on your arm, it was an awful time. 

So on the morning of her fourteenth birthday, Shiori's nanny dutifully wrapped her arm in the special tape that she could not remove until the Words Reveal Ball in two month's time. Her father was not present, but this was not unusual on her birthdays.

She wondered if she'd even have words appear - while she adored romance novels, the idea of a soulmate sometimes terrified her. She wasn't sure what would be worse- that she had no words appear on her arm, marking her as soulmateless, or if she would have the airheaded flowery words that were common among high society introductions that were created to make finding your soulmate much easier, since that was the true mark of someone of 'high class'. 

She decided that the flowery words would be worse, but she wouldn't know until the ball, so, she focused on her studies, ignoring the itch of the tape around her arm.

\----

The day of the ball was a warm summer day, and Shiori was suffering in her tight-waisted, starchy fabric dress. 

"I'm fourteen years old," said Shiori to her nanny, "I don't _have _a waist to show off. Why do I have to wear this dress that accentuates it?"

"You may meet your soulmate here, if you read aloud the words to match someone else," said her nanny, straightening Shiori's hair bows for the fourth time. Her nanny's arm was exposed to reveal her words - _Do you know where the train station entrance is? - _and Shiori envied her for having non-flowery words. It meant that she wasn't expected to play these mindgames of introducing herself by saying things like "Isn't the gleam of the snow on the river a delight?" and then her actual name in the hopes that someone would have had poetry on their arms all their life, waiting for you. 

It rendered poetry insincere, which enraged Shiori. An entire art form ruined to make elites feel good about themselves and keep out people who might dare intrude on their society.

She dreaded the potential nonsense words on her arm. She considered peeling off the tape herself, but her nanny kept a close eye on the wraps, and she did not feel up to the cupboard again tonight. Not after last time. 

At the ball, Shiori recognized several of her classmates, but others were new, so unfortunately, she had to introduce herself with her stock "introduction" phrase that she had to pick and develop when she was young. In a bout of rebellion, she had chosen, "Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance", to honor her favorite author, and always felt a surge of pride at the slight awkwardness in the other person's eyes. 

If they were her soulmate, perhaps they would not balk at it. If her soulmate also read Jane Austen, perhaps it would not be so bad after all. 

But there was no moment of recognition when she introduced herself to the other fourteen year olds, who were quickly shuffled off to the waiting room to touch up on their hair and outfits. At long last, they were then herded to the circle of chairs, and their parents proudly standing behind them. Shiori's nanny stood behind hers, carefully eyeing her tape, but Shiori had been good and had not touched it. 

They went around the room alphabetically, and Shiori had to strongly resist rolling her eyes at "The evergreen trees blow in the breeze tonight" and "The sakura blossoms dance in the summer air" and instead focused on figuring out the best way to unwrap her tape elegantly, as that was another thing you could be scolded for doing incorrectly here. 

Finally, it was her turn. Shiori gracefully unraveled the tape, closing her eyes until she could look down and see the full words. 

And then she grinned, widely, and her nanny gasped. 

But the words must be read- it was incredibly indecorous not to read them, and in that moment Shiori had never been more gleeful that the rules existed. 

Shiori looked up at the circle of expectant children and mothers, and, smiling, announced the words aloud:

_"I'm gonna fucking kill that guy." _

\----

Her father was immensely displeased, and she was sent over by car to his office, and met him there. Her arm was re-wrapped in soulmate tape, despite that it had been revealed already.

"You understand why you are here," said her father, his voice rumbling, not at all masking his anger. 

"I don't, Father," said Shiori, calmly. 

He sighed and put his fist to his head. "It seems that your reveal words were... common language." 

"They are indeed," said Shiori. "However, as it works, there is nothing I can do but meet my soulmate, then."

"I don't believe you will," said her father firmly. "There are arrangements for people of our status who have... incidents like yours. I already have several contacts in mind who have had similarly embarrassing reveal words that can be paired off-"

"I refuse," said Shiori, and her father frowned. 

"You cannot."

"I will attend university, as you requested, despite my desire to be a mangaka, but you cannot force me to marry against my will." She didn't leverage this often, but she said, carefully, "Think of what the media would say, if they were to find out."

That did it. He huffed under his breath, and then said, "Very well. But your arms must remain covered. We will say you have delicate skin and must be protected against the sun."

This was a small price to pay for not being married off to someone ashamed of their reveal words, and so, Shiori accepted. 

After all, she wasn't ashamed of her words. 

To her, this meant there was someone passionate in her future, someone willing to put up a fight, someone who likely felt injustice at something. 

And Shiori was excited to meet this person.

\-----

University was a chore in a way for Shiori, but picking literature and art classes made it easier. Arranging her schedule so that she had blocks of time to draw, she almost found it bearable. 

So she was lost in her thoughts, trying to think of she could squeeze in studio time between her Modern English Literature course and her Art History seminar when she heard a fight break out, and turned, mildly curious. 

A ring had formed around a few men, and a poor young man was in the middle getting absolutely pounded. Shiori noted that oddly, he seemed rather built, and if she had to bet money on anyone in that ring, it'd be him. Bemused as to why he wasn't fighting back, Shiori sidled up to someone, murmuring, "What's going on?"

The man she asked shrugged. "I think that's the dude that lives with Akashi Masaomi, and someone was mad at him, so they take it out on his roommate. Actually," he said, turning to the guy next to him. "Aren't those two dating?"

"Nah bro, I think it's a sex thing," said the guy, shrugging. "Anyway, Yamazaki's always fine after, but if Akashi finds out-"

"Youji, all I have to do is listen for a fight and you're in the middle of it," loudly announced someone, and the men currently kicking the fallen student backed off, swearing. "Oh, it's the Tamaki brothers. Of Tamaki Electric and Lighting Industries? Any reason you're beating on poor, defenseless Youji here?" 

"Masa-chan can you not make me look pathetic? That'd be great," muttered the man on the ground, and Akashi bent down to scoop him up, grinning in a way that made Shiori fear for the lives of the two brothers, who now looked terrified. 

"Back off, Akashi," said one of them, now nervous but blustering as best he could. 

"Hmm, would rather not," said Akashi pleasantly (in the way that one would pleasantly plan a murder, thought Shiori). "How is your father enjoying being CEO? So tiring, however. Don't worry, I will simply buy the company from him and relieve him of that duty. Youji, come along." He pulled Youji along, who said, "Masa-chan, I'm fine, I swear-" but shut up as he coughed up some blood.

"In fact, you two don't need to worry about inheriting it either," called out Akashi over his shoulder with a lightness to his voice that decried his words. "I'm generous like that, you all are free to choose your own futures now. How lovely!" With that he pulled Youji along and left, leaving the brothers there, frozen, confused. 

"He wouldn't," said one of them, but the other didn't seem so sure. 

"Who _is_ this guy?" snarled someone near to Shiori, and she turned to see a tall, built woman angrily gesturing and panting, as if she had been running up to the commotion. "I heard there was a fight but-"

"Looks like someone decided to beat the shit out of Akashi's boytoy and he wasn't having it," said the man who Shiori had spoken to earlier. "So whenever someone pisses Akashi off he just buys their family's company or gets them fired. Sure don't ever want to get on his wrong side."

"What a monster," growled the woman. "They shouldn't have been attacking anyone but that's so extreme-"

"It's the way it is, and if you want to try and fix it, be my guest," said the man, laughing. "But it's not going to ever change. He runs this campus, and probably the world one day." With that the guy nodded to Shiori and the woman, and then walked away. 

The woman turned to watch Akashi walking away, supporting Youji in an oddly tender way compared to how he just destroyed the lives of at least three men, if not possibly many more. She then turned to Shiori, fire burning in her eyes, and said, "I'm gonna fucking kill that guy." 

Shiori's mind hadn't caught up to her mouth, as she was already saying, "Interesting thought, but let's not act in haste," already thinking of how she should probably avoid this man at all cost but felt the urge to _do something_ about it. It'd require intense planning, likely-

And then she froze, as did the woman.

"Hey- did you- did you just-" stammered the woman, and then Shiori burst out laughing.

"It's _you_," she said, her chest heaving with the glee rising in it. For the past four years, she had wondered, dreamed, hoped it would be someone full of anger and justice. 

And she had been _right. _

The woman kept staring, her eyes wide. "I- I didn't think.... I thought I was straight."

Shiori had known for a while she was bisexual, but she imagined finding out like this was probably pretty stunning. Nevertheless, she found it difficult to soothe her soulmate (her _soulmate!)_ due to her laughter choking her words.

"I'm sorry," said Shiori, trying to maintain her calm. "But, you must understand, where I come from, we do the poetry introduction exchanges. So, for me to reveal-"

"Oh my god," said the woman, now joining in on the laughter. "You had to read that aloud to a room full of people, right? '_I'm gonna fucking kill that guy?'_ I hope you didn't get in trouble or anything. I hear those types of societies are awful when your reveal words aren't full of meaningless fluff." 

"I managed," said Shiori, unable to restrain her smile. "And you?"

"Oh well, my mother used to tell me I tend to act before I think sometimes, so this seemed par for the course- I suppose I didn't worry about it much," said Hinami. "My parents were soulmates so I guess I figured I'd just find them one day and that'd be that."

"So, are you going to kill him?" asked Shiori, gesturing now to the empty spot where the fight had happened. There were several unsightly splatters of blood on the pavement still. It was rather gruesome. 

"No, I don't even really mean it, I just was angry, but that's.... I still am mad that he just gets away with ruining people's lives- but- oh my god- I'm sorry, there's just so much happening, I have no idea where to start."

"Well," said Shiori, holding out her hand. "Let's start with names, now that we got our reveal words out of the way. My name is Nakahara Shiori, and I do believe you are my soulmate."

"My name is Kasamatsu Hinami, and yeah, I think you're my soulmate too."


	18. To Be Marked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Himuro tapped out a jaunty rhythm on Murasakibara's chest, thinking. "I have an idea, for when I'm gone in America for two weeks, but you can say no. It will require you to do something every few days, but it wouldn't take more than a minute."  
\----  
(MuraMuro thoughtful fluff)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how the NBA recruiting works! Please don't tell me! I'd rather not know.

"It's only for two weeks," said Himuro, straddling Murasakibara as he played with his hair on the couch. "I've got some teams scouting me out. I need to show the NBA what I have."

"I know," said Murasakibara, his hands resting on Himuro's hips. "I told you, I'll be fine." 

Himuro tilted his head and smiled softly. Murasakibara resisted the urge to reach up and brush his bangs away so he could see both eyes. He liked seeing both of them because then he could maybe read his boyfriend's emotions better. Even after dating for a while, he still felt like there were shimmering illusions around this man, something he could never quite understand. 

"I heard Kuroko telling Taiga that he was pleased by all the marks left on him so he'd have something to remember him by during the scouting. I'm not sure they wanted me to overhear that, but I did, so I intend to give Taiga tons of shit for it on the plane." Himuro reached out and touched Murasakibara's face, sliding down the long, angled jaw. "I'm sorry I can't really leave them on you as a reminder. They'd go away so quickly."

"It's okay," lied Murasakibara, who tried not to dwell on the limitations of his body. It frustrated him to bear the scars of whips and cattle prods, but could never carry the marks of someone that loved him enough to bite and kiss him, deeply and for a long time. 

Himuro smiled again, and Murasakibara felt transparent, like Himuro could see his real thoughts. He had gray eyes, not gold, but something made the Miracle feel like his mind was being picked through. 

Perhaps this was the price of being loved - this feeling that he no longer could be shielded from being known. No one had warned him about that before he had fallen for the man above him. There was a lot he hadn't been warned about before they had escaped. 

Himuro tapped out a jaunty rhythm on his partner's chest, thinking. "I have an idea, but you can say no. It will require you to do something every few days, but it wouldn't take more than a minute."

Murasakibara blinked slowly, now curious. "Hmm?" 

Himuro leaned forward, pressing down on Murasakibara's chest, and kissed him. Murasakibara put aside whatever thoughts he had on the subject to eagerly respond. 

\----

Himuro checked one last time for his passport, wallet, and phone, and looked up at his boyfriend, who was doing his best not to pout.

"Stop pouting, Atsushi."

"I'm not."

Himuro smiled and walked over to his desk, pulling out something in an envelope. "I've got instructions in here. Do one every three days until I get back, okay?" 

"That sounds tiring," said Murasakibara, not even aware of what it was but that it required timing sounded strenuous enough. 

Himuro tip-toed up and kissed his boyfriend, pushing the envelope into his hand as he did. "I'll make it very worth your while. I promise." 

Murasakibara knew how these things often went, so he acquiesced to the unknown envelope.

\----

Murasakibara spread out the contents of the envelope, which was a handful of printed images and some wipes, like one would get at a restaurant. There was an instruction sheet as well, handwritten with Tatsuya's exacting style. 

_Every three days, peel off the plastic, press the image on your skin, and then press a wet towel against it for a minute, then pull away the paper. Blow on it to dry, and then, when you're ready for the new one, use the makeup wipes on it and apply another. _

_Don't forget to text me pictures. _

_Tatsuya _

Murasakibara looked at the images - they were temporary tattoos, the packing said, childish images of basketballs, hoops, and various NBA teams logos. He huffed out a laugh, but did the first one, a basketball, carefully peeling back the plastic and pressing a cool, wet edge of a towel against it on the underside of his arm. He pulled the towel back and blew on it, curious to see the shiny, crumpled texture of the image now on his skin. 

How silly. How odd. 

He snapped a picture and sent it to Himuro with the no caption. Despite the time difference, he got an instant response - an image back, a selfie of Himuro in a hotel room, Taiga caught in an unflattering pose looking confused behind him. 

The caption read, _Very good, Atsushi. _

Murasakibara definitely didn't blush at that, or gently touch the temporary tattoo deferentially with a single finger, watching the way it crinkled and bent. 

Of course he didn't, how silly that would be if he had. 

\------

"What's on your arm?" asked Kise, peering at Murasakibara's arm in the lobby of the high school where they'd come to watch some Tokyo schools' practice games. Scouting out the opponents for the upcoming tournament wasn't of super interest to Murasakibara, but everyone else was going, and otherwise he'd be bored at home without Himuro. Thus he came down for the weekend, but wondered if dealing with his fellow Miracles was really worth it sometimes. "Is that... a little basketball tattoo? You got a tattoo?"

"It's a temporary tattoo, it comes off in the shower," replied Murasakibara, wondering to himself why he decided to arrive with Kise instead of Kuroko, who talks a lot less. 

Kise narrowed his eyes. "Seriously? We already have shitty tattoos."

"It's not the same," said Murasakibara, feeling a sharp twinge in his stomach. He hadn't actually connected the two concepts before. "Murochin picked these out."

"As if you wouldn't get a tattoo if _Senpai_ asked you," jibed Aomine from behind them, striding up with Momoi walking behind chatting with Imayoshi.

Kise turned around, scowling. "Senpai wouldn't ask me to, he knows how much I hate our tattoos." 

Murasakibara cast a glance around them, but it didn't see anyone paying attention to them. It still was weird to discuss these very Miracle-specific things in public, but no one seemed to be focusing on them. "I could've said no if I wanted to."

"Why didn't you say no then?" asked Kise, his bright yellow eyes intense. "Why would you _want_ something like that on you?" 

He didn't talk about his relationship a lot with others - it was what it was, and Himuro liked him, and he liked Himuro, and sure, he'd make jabs at Kise once in a while for taking so long to get his boyfriend, but talking about relationships with others didn't really interest him that much. 

So he just muttered, "Let's focus on basketball," and, mercifully, Kise turned his attention to the others.

\-----

_I think they're going to recruit me for the Knicks. Just a feeling, though. _

Murasakibara stared at the text. He wasn't sure how to show his support without also showing his anxiety at the thought of Himuro staying in America after they graduated. 

He looked at the stack of temporary tattoos on his desk and saw one of the logos available for him to pick was the Knicks. Within a few minutes, he sent a picture to Himuro, of the Knicks logo, right above the one of the hoop that replaced the basketball from a few days ago. 

He hoped that his message got across. He wasn't that good with words, not in the way that Himuro seemed to work magic with them on other people or sometimes even Murasakibara himself. 

His phone buzzed again, this time with a photo back of Himuro's smiling face. Murasakibara noticed with a flare of heat that Himuro looked to be shirtless in what appeared to be a locker room. 

_That looks good on you_, the text said. 

Murasakibara didn't know how to respond to that compliment, so he just sent, _What time does your plane get back? _Even though he knew perfectly well when. He'd set the alarm in his phone before Himuro had even left Japan. 

_Thursday at 2:20pm. Hopefully customs isn't bad, it usually isn't since I've got dual citizenship. You'll be there, of course?_

Murasakibara nodded, even though he knew Himuro couldn't see the screen, and texted, _Yeah. _He touched his arm, pressing down on the crinkly textured plastic, and thought of how it would feel for Himuro to be the one touching it.

\--

Murasakibara, due to his height, had an easy time spotting Himuro coming out of customs. Instead of pushing forward to the crowd of people waiting for their loved ones, he hung back, eyes intensely watching as Himuro easily ducked and weaved towards his partner. One of the benefits of his height- it also made him easy for Himuro to see in crowds. 

"Hey there," said Himuro, his eyes glinting flint gray in the fluorescent lights. He had just a simple suitcase and backpack, but Murasakibara took both anyway. 

"I can carry those, you know," said Himuro. "After all, I'm signed to the Knicks now, so you'd think a pro athlete would be strong enough to carry their own bags." 

Murasakibara's heart leap and then crashed down again. "Oh?" was all he said, however. 

"The paperwork isn't official but they've made the offer and I submitted my documents, and these things take a lot of time so I won't get a full confirmation for a while, but yes, it's about as good as done," confirmed Himuro, who pulled them off to a corner. He reached up and met Murasakibara halfway, kissing him with soft passion. "I didn't want to tell you by text, but I also didn't want to wait until we were back at my place to tell you - you'd be surprised how hard it is to keep my poker face around you sometimes."

"I would be," said Murasakibara, feeling somewhat pleased at this, but still a bit shaken at how real Himuro's future was now. 

Himuro would be going back to the States, after graduation, and Murasakibara would be... unsure of what he would be doing then.

"Hey," said Himuro firmly, bringing Murasakibara back, tapping his chest. "Where'd you go?"

"Congratulations," said Murasakibara in response, not answering the question. _Where will I go when you go? _ he thought, and while he had considered it before, it hadn't been quite so viscerally raw until now.

"We have a year until I go," said Himuro, and his face was set and serious. "And- I know it hasn't been so long in the grand scheme of things for us - and we aren't Taiga and Kuroko, all that marriage right away stuff, that's for sure -but I think we can work it out. If you come or don't come."

"Mmm," said Murasakibara, needing space to process this, to think. 

Ah. Wait. Something he had done, that he felt good about. 

"Here," he said, and showed Himuro his arm. "Muro-chin asked for three today."

Himuro's eyes lit up, bright and glad. "Oh, you - they're all there. Not that I didn't think you would, I suppose, it's that I just.... it's intense, in a good way, to have someone who would do this sort of thing, to make me feel remembered."

"Of course I did it," said Murasakibara, pouting slightly. "I did all of them, you know."

Himuro smiled. "I'm glad. We don't have to make any decisions now, or for a while, but you should know, in the future, I'd like it if you were there. I missed you, Atsushi. I didn't like missing you."

"I missed you too," said Murasakibara, the words feeling awkward and heavy on his tongue, but if it was said to Himuro, then they were fine. He could be vulnerable with him. "And I'd like to be there with you too."

"There's a lot of logistics to work out," commented Himuro, and Murasakibara could be damned to think about logistics as Himuro slid a finger up and down the line of temporary tattoos on Murasakibara's arm. "But I know I want you there with me."

There was a lot to think about, but as he felt Himuro's finger press into the crinkled plastic, with an expression of soft wonder that he rarely saw on that normally guarded face, he also knew, despite the unknown factors of a future unplanned, that he wanted to be by Himuro's side as well. 


	19. On My Signal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote a short OT4 Heist AU, except the JSDF is involved so... not super AUish? Don't ask questions about the logistics, this was entirely written for style and not substance. Just enjoy the concept of the OT4 executing a perfect heist together.

"Here are your choices - people tend to like our Purple line, but I feel that you're a woman interested in more than brute force," said the man, holding out the tablet to Shiori. He flipped through a few pictures of children with brightly colored hair. He shifted on the hotel bed, leaning forward to shower her. "Our Green line is all about precision, but you said you were interested in more intellectual pursuits?"

"Yes. I can buy technology to move items, or analyze data," said Shiori, distantly examining the two bands stacked on each other on her left ring finger. "Those simply don't interest me, Saito-san. Does Teiko have anything of true value to offer?"

"But of course, Madame. Perhaps our Red or Gold line will suit your needs better," said Saito, scrolling to another page. "Please, see for yourself."  


Shiori tilted her head, tapping a delicate finger on the screen. "Tell me more about this one." Her wrist bracelet, a rose gold circlet, glinted in the light of the tablet as it gently clinked the glass. 

"Excellent choice, Madame," purred Saito, swiping up on the screen. "This is RM-0102, one of our more elite options. Equipped with Absolute Order, which is complete mind control. He's highly intelligent, efficient, and has absolutely no intimacy or affection that's unfortunately sometimes in some of our other Projects - we've completely wiped him of that, I assure you." 

"Sounds like a dangerous weapon," commented Shiori, peering closer at the screen. The child's red eyes seemed piercing, as though the pixels themselves were infused with his power. She gently tapped the screen, pressing her finger on it for a moment against the child's face. "What's stopping him from simply killing my husband and I?"

"No need to worry, Madame, we give you the necessary equipment to make them comply, as well as suppressing devices. We have one in particular that... suitably punishes them for their transgressions." 

Shiori's turned into an elegant, cruel smile. "Ah, perfect. I believe I've made my decision, Saito-san. I will take RM-0102."

"If you'd like, you can look over the merchandise tomorrow night at our facilities," said Saito, taking the tablet back. "We can send you the coordinates an hour before you arrive- say, 6pm?"

"That sounds lovely," said Shiori, gathering up her furs as she rose from the table. "I look forward to my purchase with Teiko Industries, Saito-san." 

"I promise that you and your husband won't regret it, Madame," said Saito-san, bowing as he ushered her out of the room.

Shiori left the hotel room swiftly, glancing left and right as soon as the door was closed. She headed to the elevator, and tapped the down button, then stood back patiently. When the elevator opened, she stepped in, and the second the doors closed, she held her wrist up to her mouth and said, softly, "Now, my love." 

The bracelet hummed, vibrating softly, and Shiori smiled.

\------

"I see him, he's driving west," said Hinami into a bracelet on her wrist, propping her sniper rifle up as she surveyed the car with binoculars. "He's alone in the car." From her vantage point on top of the water tower, she could see the forest below, and, a few miles away, Teiko Industries facilities. 

"Roger that," said Youji, voice clear as if he was standing there. "I'm at the rendevous point. Once you take the shot, I'll head in. Masa-chan, unlock the doors when you hear firing." 

"Noted," said Masaomi's voice from Hinami's bracelet. 

Hinami readied her gun, watching the tires turn and turn through the scope. 

5... 4.... 3... 2... 1...

She fired four times, puncturing one tire in the car four times, causing it to blow. The car spiraled out of control, skidding off the road and nearly crashed into a tree, if it weren't for the speedy blur that leapt out and shoved it back into the road. 

Hinami watched as her husband opened the car door, hauled out Saito, punched him in the face, and then threw him onto the asphalt. 

Hinami knew that Youji was only about two feet from Saito, and that if she missed by that incredibly small distance, she could kill her husband. 

She took the shot and hit Saito cleanly between the eyes. 

Youji threw the corpse into the pit in the bushes he had dug, and then reached up and pulled a cord from the tree had had been crouching in, releasing a flood of dirt and branches to cover the pit. 

He then quickly set to changing out the tire from one he had on hand. "Masa-chan, cleanup on aisle four," said Youji through the bracelet as he sidled into the car as it thrummed to life. 

"Cleanup crew's on its way," said Masaomi. "You've got complete control of the car, and the gates should let you in easily. Once you enter the facilities, I'm putting the offices on lockdown and your bracelet should map you to where the kids are. You know what to do if you run into trouble."

"Did you get a message to the Pink Miracle?" asked Shiori, and judging by the way it came through on Masaomi's channel, she'd gotten back to their house. 

"She got our encoded message when your bracelet touched the tablet, and the GPS tracker will let her know our timeline. They're ready for us," said Masaomi. "Youji, we've got the JSDF backup ready too. Once you're in, it's going to be absolute hell, but you know what to do."

"I wonder how our boys will feel about having siblings," said Youji casually as he drove up to the gates of Teiko Industries. "I feel like Yukio could make his own basketball team, you know, if the kids take a liking to basketball." 

"You can fantasize about making a junior basketball league later, Youji," said Masaomi, typing away on his computer. "Tracking and explosive devices deactivated in all the kids now, by the way. What _idiots_ allow a mainframe with this terrible of security to link to a tablet they take outside of their facilities?" 

"We can't adopt all of them, it looks like there are over a hundred," pointed out Hinami, but they heard the smile in her voice that indicated that they could possibly, if they wheedled enough, maybe adopt all hundred of them. 

"Let's rescue them first," said Shiori, her voice heavy. "We don't know if they'll all survive, even if Masaomi did turn off their trackers." 

"We'll give it our best shot," said Hinami, panting slightly, sounding like she had been running. "I've rejoined our forces in the forest. Ready when you are, Youji."

"I'm here," said Youji. "Tell Kobayashi to the send backup now. We're getting these kids home." 


	20. you make my heart go dokidoki (not that i'd admit it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midotaka fluff ft. a wise younger sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was gonna call this chapter "Doki Doki Basketball Club" but this is whole lot cuter than that source of that reference so I refrained.

"You still have your second button on your gakuran," noticed Naoko one morning at breakfast.

Midorima looked down and indeed, his button was there. "Did you think it was in danger of falling off?" He was very prideful of his gakuran, ironing it and hanging it up to keep it crisp. If the button was loose, he would have noticed.

Naoko shook her head. "No, but, you shouldn't have it."

"Why not?"

Naoko fidgeted with her phone in her hand. "Well, I think you're supposed to wait until graduation, but I also heard you don't have to wait."

"I don't understand," said Midorima, now more confused than before.

Naoko scrolled on her phone and then put it on the table in front of her brother. "See?"

Midorima read the text and suddenly understood. "Oh."

Satisfied, Naoko pulled her phone back and started to collect her dishes. Seeing how her brother was lost in thought, she took his as well.

Little sisters have to take care of their big brothers, after all. 

  
\-------

  
Midorima was fiddling with something in his hands. Takao watched his boyfriend fidget nervously out of the corner of his eye as he pulled on his gakuran after throwing his practice clothes into his bag.

"Are you hiding something?" asked Takao jokingly, sidling up to Midorima. "Is it a present? Present for me? It's not even my birthday."

A flush skittered across his partner's cheeks, and Takao caught a small glinting flash between his partner's long fingers. "Oooh, is it jewelry? Are you wearing rings now? That'll throw off your weight distribution in your hand, I bet-"

"Of course not!" said Midorima, who admittedly had actually thought about the weight issue once he learned about the human tradition of wedding rings, and how he would have to find a place to store such a ring during practice and games if he ever- well, if they ever-

"So what is it then? You can't hide things from your Hawk, you know," said Takao cheerily, and Midorima's heart thrummed at the thought of Takao being 'his Hawk'. As much as the 'shadow and light' identification for Kuroko and Kagami seemed overly saccharine to many, Midorima was privately envious of how recognized they were with it. But to have a Hawk, well, that seemed far better. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, of course.

"It's -" started Midorima, who swallowed and opened his palm. "It's the second button of my gakuran."

Takao blinked, very surprised. "You know about that tradition?"

"Of course I do," said Midorima primly.

"... Naoko told you, didn't she?"

"That's not the point." He bristled a bit, and then held it out. "Ah- I-"

Takao took it out of his hand, and examined it closely. "You know, I was never sure what the girl was supposed to do when she got it."

"I can take it back-" said Midorima, suddenly very eager to return the button to his gakuran to avoid being embarrassed any further, "If you don't want it-"

"Oh, no, I definitely do," said Takao, holding it to his chest. "This is super cute, Shin-chan, if it were cherry blossom season I'd be blushing beneath the falling petals."

Midorima scowled but was momentarily distracted by that thought. It was a very nice image, thinking of Takao's dark bangs fluttering in the wind.

Takao looked down to where the button was pressed to his chest, and then grinned. "Ah, got it." He undid his own button, and handed it over to Midorma. "There, fixed."

"It's... the same button. We go to the same school, Takao."

Takao laughed. "No, now we have each other's buttons! I'll carry a little bit of you wherever I go. At least, when I'm in my gakuran. And then when we're on the court you're right there too."

Midorima's chest felt tight and he willed his face not to flush.

It disobeyed royally.

He looked at the button, stunned by the turn of events. "It was meant as a gift for you," he stammered, unsure of what to do now. He had a script for this, the website said what to do, but not when his plan was flung wildly off course.

Takao smiled, and Midorima was lost in the brightness of it. "Yeah, it was a gift. And now I've given you mine too." He reached out and tapped the button in Midorima's palm.

"Now you'll carry a little bit of me whenever you've got your gakuran on."

"That's overly sentimental," said Midorima, trying to save face but failing as Takao grinned at him.

"I'm just a sentimental guy, and you're just the fool dating him."

The script was unwritten for this particular scenario, but Midorima was alright with that, if that meant carrying a little bit of Takao with him was the end result. 


	21. Line by Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Happy AU - OT4 is together, everyone lives)
> 
> Shiori documents times of transition as she meets a child, and then gains a son, and, further down the line, a potential son-in-law as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two links to other fics in this piece- these are pieces of this story I had previously written. Chances are, if you're reading this, you already read those, but they're linked to refresh your memory just in case. 
> 
> This is based off a prompt from medium-dippers on Tumblr! You requested Shiori and Furihata meet. I... may have wildly expanded on that. Sorry.

The first time Shiori met her son, she was in the middle of a firefight in Cairo. 

What had started out as a genetics conference had ended up with her getting split up from her partners and co-husband, and suddenly, she was protecting a little boy from paramilitary men armed to the teeth with intentions to kill. 

She saw the boy's eyes, how he glowed when he commanded her, and how he determined he was to get back to his team. 

She saw her husband's traits in his child and thought, _How easy it would be, to call this boy my son. _

_\---_

She saw the five children clustered together, bleeding and angry and scared and barely clinging to life, and thought, _How easy it would be to call all of them my sons. _

And when Youji pulled her out, and she reached for them, it felt like it was just them and her in the room.

And then Shiori realized something vital: Youji didn't see them. It was as if they had vanished, but they were _there_, staring at her, crouched, hiding from whatever they had been running from. 

And maybe whatever they would have to return to. 

Immediately after being hauled out, Masaomi held her tight, Hinami piling on, and she didn't have time to explain before the JDSF took them to a safe zone. She wondered, panicked, if she would ever see the children again, and the boy she briefly called her son.

\---

"I know what I saw," said Shiori firmly for the fourth time that evening. It had been a few days since the Cairo incident, and they were back in Tokyo, bandged up but healthy. 

They all were standing in their living room, the air between the four of them incredibly tense. Hinami had wisely sent their sons away to various friends' residences this weekend, because she didn't want their kids to see their parents this divided.

They had never, not since they first got together, been this divided.

"And you know why I can't believe that," responded Masaomi, his voice tinged with annoyance. 

"I saw something too," said Hinami, standing next to her wife. Her husband had barely spoken this evening, his eyes darting between his partners and co-wife. "Lieutenant Hizashi was not himself. And given what Shiori heard one of the kids say, it's possible one of those kids was a shapeshifter-"

"And what, you're blessed with the ability to see through that? You're a magical girl now?" snapped Masaomi. "Youji, _say something_."

"Even _if_ there were these children that were in this room that I didn't see, what are we supposed to do about it?" asked Youji, his voice sounding broken and helpless. "Google 'magical children' and start filling out adoption forms?"

"Don't mock her," said Hinami sharply. 

"I'm not," said Youji, sounding tired. "I just have no idea what to do, Senpai. No idea at all." 

"You could at least look for them with your networks," said Shiori, looking at Masaomi. "I know you could take a day and go through every single child trafficking website, every police scanner, every dark web branch." 

"Feeding this delusion doesn't seem like a sensible idea," said Masaomi, and Shiori turned around abruptly towards the kitchen to distract herself, trying to not yell, or snap, or go cold - 

\- when she suddenly stumbled, head fuzzy and weak, and the last thing she heard was the worried shout of her partners and co-husband as she fell to the ground. 

\---

"Youji's in the room now. They're doing the blood transfer, and it's going well," said Hinami, settling next to Masaomi in the sleek hospital chair. He was settled there, laptop out on his knees, the look in his eyes incredibly focused.

"It fucking better be," muttered Masaomi, and Hinami put a hand on her co-husband's leg, which, she realized, was trembling. 

"Why were you so insistent it be Youij's blood? He and I have the same blood type," asked Hinami curiously. 

"The man is impossible to kill. I don't know what's in his blood, but given the tests I ran when I combined their blood, it could possibly fix Shiori's... condition." 

Hinami glanced down and his right hand knuckles were white, one of them gripping his leg. She reached out and put her hand from his thigh to his hand, and nudged him to go under it. "Did you mention that to the doctor?" 

Masaomi snorted tersely. "Of course not. I can't tell him I think my husband has supernatural blood that can cure my wife's genetic illness."

"And yet, _you_ believe it." 

"I believe in anything that can save her," said Masaomi. "And if she won't let me do genetic alterations, this is the next best option." 

Hinami twisted her mouth wryly. _That_ had not been a fun argument to be around for. 

Oddly, though, not once during all of this had she been worried that they would break up. No one had suggested it, or even considered it an option. All of this was just another thing to work through, the same way they had worked through raising their children together, working together when Youji or Hinami was deployed, or when Masaomi had to do long overseas business trips. 

"What are you doing on there anyway?" asked Hinami, peering at the screen, which unfortunately was entirely in a script she couldn't read. Maybe Arabic?

"I might have found something," said Masaomi, his voice was low and serious. "Do you remember those drawings that Shiori did of the children?"

"Yeah?" Looking at them had been... haunting, to say the least. Shiroi had opted not to draw them in her usual manga style, and instead had done realistic portraits. Their expressions were scared, angry, horrified, stern, commanding, while their bodies were that of children. The juxtaposition had twisted something in Hinami's core, her identity as a mother righteously furious at how these _children_ looked like soldiers. 

After Shiori had fainted and was found to have a genetic illness, Masaomi had changed gears instantly. It almost gave Hinami whiplash, but she wasn't about to argue. Youji was surprisingly harder to turn around, but with evidence, he would believe it, surely.

"Someone had been taking Poloroids at the genetics conference . Some damn hipster or something... anyway, they got this, and while the page had been scrubbed quickly after, someone else had already archived it. I've downloaded it and secured it on my private servers. Do you think it-" 

Hinami knew the instant she saw the image on the screen that it was one of the children Shiori had seen. A small boy with blue hair, seemingly crawling away behind a building while a small hand reached out from behind it, extended to grab him. The boy was bleeding, and dust obscured the image, but his eyes and hair were clearly visible. 

"It's the one they called Black," whispered Hinami, remembering the labels Shiori had put on the drawings. 

"All digital camera and phone photos had been wiped, like an electromagnetic wave had gone through and destroyed the images, but because this was a Poloroid... it survived." Masaomi tapped his fingers on the keyboard. "Hinami. You and Shiori were right. This, and the speculation I've seen in the dark web... everything suggests that what happened in Cairo was not a gas explosion or terrorist attack."

There could be no words in any human language to describe the ecstasy of knowing she wasn't crazy combined with the drop in her stomach at the thought that the bleeding children were out there still. Being abused, possibly dead - how many of those children that Shiori saw and heard about were still alive?

"How do we find them?" asked Hinami softly, because asking 'if' they would find them was a foregone conclusion. 

"Not sure. Someone is scouring any trace of them on the internet, destroying evidence." Masaomi pursed his lips. "In ways that aren't like a normal hacker. This could take me some time."

"We'll find them," said Hinami, staring at the Poloroid on the screen. "I can't imagine a world where we don't." 

\---

Through a mix of Masaomi's searching and a desperate, small ping from the one they later would learn was called Pink, [ they arranged the heist to pull the kids out.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20913074/chapters/57288031)

They weren't fast enough to save all of them. 

But they saved seven. 

\---

"Shiori, you're a civilian, and they're clearly dangerous, given what happened in Cairo-" said Masaomi, but Shiori met his gaze with steely, determined eyes. 

"I'm going in there. They didn't hurt me last time when it was a firefight." 

"At least take Youji," said Masaomi, and there was a begging note to his voice, one that rarely appeared. 

Shiori relented. When she entered the room, Youji behind her, she gasped softly. 

_We're missing two. And there are more I hadn't seen before..._

They had all been dressed in casual clothes, their paramilitary gear in a storage locker, along with other items confiscated from them, such as Green's many knives. While there were some entertainment items for each of them - books, newspapers, even a half-hearted attempt at art supplies and coloring books- they were instead either murmuring to each other or staring at the ground or around the room. She ran through their names in her head, noting once again the oddity of "Black" having light blue hair, compared to the dark-blue haired Blue. 

Some looked at her cautiously, while others didn't even look up from staring at the ground. Shiori smiled, softly, and she saw them relax- not due to her show of kindness, but because, she assumed, they assessed (correctly) she was not a threat. Youji was back in the corner, no weapons on his person, watching carefully. 

She turned to Red. "I'm Akashi Shiori. I was helping with the rescue from afar. Do you remember me, Red, from Cairo? I called you Seijuurou then."

Instantly, she knew that was the wrong thing to say, as all of the children in the room immediately tensed, and the red-haired one said, carefully, "I had Ordered you not to remember." 

Shiori blinked, trying to remember that time. "It's... difficult to order someone to forget something. Especially something that traumatic." 

"Not for me," said Red. He turned to Black. "Lovely, Black. You've led us to a Teiko plant. Did they tell you a Rainbow was here? Or was that a pleasant surprise for us to find out?" 

"She is not a Rainbow," said Black, his voice toneless. "Or else you'd be on the ground in pain as she cancels our powers."

"Look, I'll just-" said Yellow, and he quickly shapeshifted into Shiori, briefly shimmering yellow. "See? I can still shift! We're fine."

Red narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't look like her." 

Yellow as Shiori frowned, and looked down. "But... I have Perfect Copy."

Green tensed, and Shiori noticed he was glowing green now. "Red is correct. I can tell you two apart." Looking more closely at the unfolding scene, Shiori noticed that some of the colored pencils had risen a few inches in the air and Youji was watching him now very closely. 

"Are you saying I'm bad at being a Yellow?" snapped Yellow, and Shiori realized how odd it was to watch someone with the uncanny valley effect mapped on her face snap at a child. 

"I'm saying, our powers don't work on her," said Red. "Black, test the theory."

Shiori noticed that the child did not glow red, but Black obeyed regardless. He glowed, a fuzzy dark light covering his body, and hers as well. He said, "Do you intend us harm?"

"No," she said softly. "I'm a mother. I would not harm you, the same as I would not harm my children."

"You shouldn't be able to talk to me," he said, his voice flat, void of emotion. He ought to be angry, Shiori thought. This power, unsure of it as she was, that surely helped him survive this long in whatever cruel world he had been in, was useless against her. But still, he showed no emotion.

"And yet, I can. But I am telling the truth. I mean you no harm."

He released the glow, and the other children blinked, looking vaguely dazed. Even Youji looked unsettled, staring at Shiori with confusion in his eyes. 

"I spoke with her," said Black. "My power has no effect on her. But she does not mean harm."

"You cannot guarantee that," said Red, his voice firm, and Shiori assessed that there was more tension between the two of them than any other of the children in the room. _Interesting_. 

"Did I cause you harm, back in Cairo?" asked Shiori, her voice still steady. If anything, she made herself sound just mildly interested and not desperately curious. 

"No, but past actions do not guarantee future results," said Red. "You cannot be human, if you are immune to our powers."

"That's not logical, Red," said Youji, speaking for the first time since they all entered this room. "How many humans beyond scientists at Teiko have you gotten to know?"

"Humans are not worth knowing," said Red, disdain in his voice. "We did not even know _them _at all."

"I would argue that you simply have not met any worth knowing," said Shiori, seeing where she could have her in here. After all, this chibi-Masaomi likely responded to the same triggers that her husband did. "If you will give me the chance, I can show you, I am a human worth knowing." 

Red glared at her, his eyes piercing, seemingly staring through her. 

Odd. When she last saw him, both eyes were red. Now, one was gold. The same gold as what could have passed for his twin, back in Cairo. She filed this information away and awaited his judgement. 

"I doubt that," he said, but turned away from her, ending the conversation. Youji sighed in relief and motioned for Shiori to come with him. Red did not watch her go.

That was fine. She was patient. 

\---

As the children settled into life at the base, Shiori met with them frequently. Given that her parts of her work, such as outlining and sketching, could be done from anywhere, she often set herself up at a table and waited for the curious children to come over to her. She made sure to only bring her safe-for-work items, which she was now quite adept at hiding given her children were old enough to peek at her art and ask probing questions. 

"Who's that?" asked Yellow, sliding next to her. Of all of the children, he had taken to them the most, often asking questions about their lives and how things worked. Shiori noted that he quickly became attached to Youji and Hinami. She wondered if that was due to them being soldiers, and given what they had figured out about the children, they likely identified more with people with that mindset. "That looks like Youji-san." 

"It is Youji-san," said Shiori, pleased that Yellow was opening up a conversation with her. "I'm experimenting with different expressions today." She neglected to mention what _kind_ of doujinshi this was going into, but today's expressions were completely teen-friendly. 

"Can you draw me?" asked Yellow eagerly.

Shiori, who had been expecting this since it was a common question asked to artists caught drawing, smiled and said, "Of course, Yellow. Let me get some new paper."

As she arranged her materials and Yellow situated himself, Red came over. Shiori would like to say he 'wandered' over, but everything he did was with purpose, even if, theoretically, he didn't really have a strict destination in mind. He watched silently as Shiori sketched Yellow, who had taken on a "innocent and cheerful" sort of pose.

"You like this sort of thing, Yellow?" asked Shiori as she outlined his catlike eyes. 

"It's fun! Youji-san even said he would try to see if I could start modeling," he said, his eyes alight with excitement. 

"What purpose would that serve?" demanded Red coldly, still standing next to Yellow. 

"It's nice to meet people, Red! Not that you would know the feeling since you hate humans," pouted Yellow, and Shiori noticed how exaggerated the pout was. _Whose benefit is that for, I wonder?_

"As do you. As we all do," said Red. "This conversation is unnecessary." He turned heel and strode away.

"Don't pay attention to him, Akashi-san," said Yellow, scowling. "He's always like that." 

"Do you hate humans?" asked Shiori, setting her voice to the 'mildly curious' setting again. 

"Not all of them! Just most," said Yellow, smiling widely. "Akashi-san, do you color in the drawings too? I want to be pretty." 

"I can do that," replied Shiori, sketching out the curve of his hair, the bangs falling sharply in his face. They continued for a while longer, Yellow occasionally craning his head over to see her progress and clapping his hands together excitedly. 

She noticed that Red did not entirely leave the area, and instead watched them carefully. 

\---

At some point, Shiori had drawn everyone except Red. (Blue had been dragged into a portrait by Pink, much to his displeasure, and Purple had just laid on the floor napping as Shiori sketched him). 

"You can't be the only one left out, Red!" said Pink, stamping her foot. "We're a team and we all need to do this."

"This does not count as anything like a team exercise," said Red stiffly, his eyebrow arched. 

"You're just worried you'll see how you look and feel bad about it," said Yellow, sticking his tongue out, something he had picked up from briefly meeting Ren and Mizuki. 

"That is inaccurate," stated Red simply. 

"You know, I do already have a portrait of Red," commented Shiori, pulling out one of her folding portfolios. She had long since scanned and archived the original drawings she had done after Cairo, but had been waiting for the right time to show the children their original drawings. 

Crowding around Shiori, Yellow and Pink looked at the sketches. Red hung back, but was looking at them as well.

"Awww, Pink and I aren't here!" said Yellow, pouting.

"You two weren't there when I met your teammates," said Shiori, pushing aside several sheets to reveal more drawings. She had drawn them as they were when she met them - bloodied, panicked, scared. She had also drawn them as she imagined how they could look - as regular, happy children. 

Pink's face looked concerned as she touched the sheet that had the images from her memory of them battered and bloodied on it. "You saw them at the end of what happened in Cairo, didn't you?" 

Shiori sensed she was entering dangerous territory, as Red shifted, his eyes more intent than before. His eyes were fixated on the realistic sheet, where both he and the one Shiori assumed was Gold were. "Yes, but I wasn't very sure of what was happening. Even after, now, I'm still not entirely sure."

"It's a time best not remembered," said Yellow sadly. "We lost a lot of people after that. Like Orange, and Brown, and Gold-"

"Shh!" hissed Pink, and Shiori glanced over at Red. He blinked back at her, eyes luminous gold and red. 

She pulled out another sheet, searching for a quick distraction. "Would you all like to see me draw Youji-san with cat ears?" 

"Yeah!" said Yellow, suddenly cheery again, and Shiori watched as Red slipped away.

\---

"I would command you to leave, but that does not work, so I simply will ask you to do so."

Shiori sat down in a chair in the mess hall. She had approached Red when no one else was around, as her question was one she was sure he would balk at answering if others were around. 

"I will not take much of your time, Red. I respect you far too much for that."

"I cannot imagine you respect me much if you do not leave me be." 

Shiori nodded. "I understand that's how you see it. I have a request of you, however."

Red did not answer, but continued to maintain eye contact with her. 

"I have portraits of all of your Generation," she said - the word felt cold, but it was all that the JSDF had used, since they lacked a better word for the group. "I am particularly interested in making portraits of those of you I met before. Humans find the progress of time and the changes therein to be of great importance. I myself changed much during the time between Cairo and now. If you would allow me to draw you, I would fulfill that need to chart the progress of time since then."

"And in return?" he asked. "What do I get out of this?" 

"I am a useful person to have in debt," said Shiori. "Surely you know that, given my associations."

"Of course I do," said Red quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly, and Shiori knew that he was wracking his brain, trying to think of the best favor to call in for this. 

"I don't need to know the favor now," she said. "May I sketch you tomorrow, around lunchtime? We can meet here at the mess hall, where I drew the others." 

"Mm," said Red, barely giving it acknowledgement. "Now, can you leave?"

Shiori gracefully rose from her sitting position and exited. She felt his eyes on her as she left the room. 

\----

After the sketch was drawn, Shiori put together all of the images, scanned them, and created a document for herself of all of them, side by side with the past and present drawings. 

Red's portrait was like a small prince's - elegant, refined, coolly aloof. While he was in actuality smaller than most of the other members of the group, he carried his commanding presence like a king's cloak that made him seem larger. 

Her eyes flicked between the earlier portraits of who she now knew as Gold, and the Red of then. The portrait of the Red of now stared at her, like a puzzle piece left out of a vast, complicated puzzle. 

She set it aside. That would have to wait for later.

\----

"I do not understand the purpose of your work," said Red flatly as he sat next to Shiori, watching her draw. Today she was working on a cover art for a well-known romance manga serial, not drawn in her usual style. "You create art. You are skilled at reproducing expressions and movement on paper. Clearly, you are paid for your work accordingly. But I do not understand the value in it." 

Shiori was used to being questioned about the value of art. However, she knew this was coming from a different angle - Red had no previous experience in appreciating art for art's sake, given the fact that he was a child soldier. It was not the jeering of people who claimed they could do what she does, but rather, the confusion of someone who had never been emotionally swayed by a piece of art. 

"Humans are deeply involved in creation, in a multitude of aspects," said Shiori, continuing her sketching. "Some cook, some do art, some craft blankets and clothes. Others engage in the art, and tell stories about the art, cheer the artists on. Or produce music, or listen to music, which are stories in their own way."

"But for what _purpose_?" Red sounded nearly petulant, as if Shiori was deliberately avoiding the question. 

"Art distracts us, enthralls us, keeps us going. Sometimes it is easier to put your mind in a fictional story than it is to live in your own story. Stories are art, meant to be shared and admired - you can tell that people admire Michiru for her storytelling abilities. As for admiring art, General Fujimaki, for example, is well known for his love of books, and thus the admiration of the authors who created those stories." She smiled and turned to Red. "Someday, Red, you will meet someone who will save you with a story. I am sure of it."

"That would have to be a very impressive person, Akashi-san, and I simply do not believe that person exists," said Red stiffly. He seemed almost uncomfortable with the thought. 

Shiori turned back to her work. "I hope you do meet them, Red. I really do."

\---

Several more months passed, and Shiori had put the favor she owed Red in the back of her mind. She honestly doubted if he would ever call for it, as he seemed quite firm in his independent status, taking offers of help from no one.

But he had been slowly warming up to her, and even approached her for conversation some days, albeit usually about human customs he did not comprehend and openly disdained of. But it was still progress. 

"I know what favor to ask of you," said Red, approaching her one day. Shiori, who had been assembling a layout for one of her manga pages, looked up with curiosity. 

"It is in regards to the names that the others have been given," he said. "Do you recall the name you gave me, in that time, back in Cairo?"

"Yes. It was Seijuurou," she said, her heart pounding at the memory of facing the gun while holding the child. She sometimes still dreamed of it. 

"It means 'absolute subjugation', correct?" 

Shiori withheld a laugh. "Correct." 

He gazed at her intensely, his eyes holding hers. She'd seen people balk at his gaze, and Youji told her it was partially due to his powers - the Latent Overflow that made people suggestive to giving into his requests. 

However, she did not feel this at all. She merely smiled and said, "Does the name interest you, Red?" 

"It was given to me, once. I feel that it should be mine now. It is, if I choose so," said Red, and Shiori nodded, again keeping her poker face. It was the most Masaomi-logic style way of saying, 'Yes, I like that name, thank you for giving it to me, but I'd rather you not know I have any sort of gratitude about this.'

"That is not the favor I ask of you today."

"Oh?" She was not a betting woman, but if she had to bet-

"Your last name is fitting - 'Red Leader'? Quite apt for myself."

"Oh yes, I'd say so," said Shiori, using all of her willpower to not smile. "It fits Masaomi quite well, as he is a very adept leader with his company."

"I know I would better represent the name, if it were my own," said Red confidently, and Shiori allowed her lips to quirk very subtly at this. "Therefore, I request the usage of your last name." 

"I quite agree. It would be a wonderful name for you, Akashi Seijuurou. Doesn't that sound commanding?"

"Indeed," said Red. "Do inform Akashi-san of my decision. I will be busy with Youji-san today."

"Understood," said Shiori, looking very forward to returning home tonight with this information.

\-----

"He _what?"_ yelped Masaomi, sitting up in his chair at the kitchen table. "I was going to suggest that - ugh! He got the jump on me? Brat." 

"You do realize that we have a son now, at this point?" said Shiori, settling down in her chair. "We've heard the murmurings from above from Youji and Hinami. I've no doubt that Seijuurou would want to be adopted by us. It's really just formalities that are holding it back from being official." 

"Hmph," said Masaomi, childlike in his pouting. "I don't suppose he will ask _you_ instead as well."

"Are you jealous that our son is more attached to me than you?" said Shiori, watching as Masaomi fumed. 

"He's not our son yet," said Masaomi. "And I'll be the one to get him to agree to it, mark my words, Shiori." 

"Of course, Masaomi-san."

\----

Soon after Seijuurou gained his name, Masaomi had suggested to him that he learn to play the violin. He quickly embraced it, soon learning to effortlessly recreate the sounds of stunning composers. Shiori spent more and more time in Seijuurou's room, sketching him as he played the violin. She had never had the opportunity to live-draw someone actively playing the violin, and she mused briefly on more youth-oriented manga she could draw - perhaps about an aspiring violinist. Or, more realistically, she mused, a child pushed by his parents to excel in violin, even if they were not very interested in it. 

She watched Seijuurou play it, noting his small frowns when he encountered something difficult. "Is there something wrong, Seijuurou?"

"There is nothing wrong," he said immediately, and Shiori waited patiently for a few minutes until he said, "I do not understand this piece."

"Oh?" said Shiori. "Is the music particularly difficult?" 

"Not in a technical sense," said Seijuurou, adjusting his bow. "When I listen to a recording by someone else, and then a recording of my own version, there is something lacking. And it... bothers me."

Seijuurou rarely admitted to being annoyed or bothered by things within his control. The theory was that if he was in control, it could be changed to no longer bother him. 

"As an artist, your style is unique. It's not possible to fully copy that of another artist," said Shiori. "My art only grew once I stopped trying to mimic other artists and instead took their art as inspiration, not dictation."

"Am I an artist then?" asked Seijuurou, his voice somewhat distant. "I wasn't aware that I could be, being a product of Teiko suited for war. I am not human, after all." 

_You are very human. And one day, I hope you will accept that. _"I don't see why not. You have created the art, which are the sounds I am hearing. It is simple as that - you are an artist." 

"Perhaps, but it is maybe the humanity itself that differentiates me - and that's what I cannot hear in my recording versus that of the artist playing. Or that I am playing for proficiency, to prove a point that I can play, versus that of the artist who is attempting to evoke emotion."

"Entirely possible," said Shiori. "Having drawn art for advertisements, and then art for my personal work that is meant to evoke emotion, there is a difference." 

"I feel no need to evoke or share emotion when I play," said Seijuurou. "But if that is what is required to make my playing better, then is it not essential to being a better musician?"

"That's for you to decide, Seijuurou." She wondered if she should tell him the mere act of him learning to play the violin evoked emotion in her- that he was holding an instrument instead of a gun brought her joy. 

But he would not appreciate the sentiment, she knew, and thus, she kept it to herself. 

\---

"Seijuurou, there is discussion of you all going to human high schools soon. This means you would be joining a human family."

"Yes. I, of course, will be joining your household."

"We'd be glad to have you, Seijuurou."

\---

'Moving day' felt like an odd term for it, but over their time at the JSDF, all of the Miracles, in some way, had gained items that needed to be taken out of their former rooms, and despite some of their protests to the contrary, there was a sense of 'moving on' that needed to be acknowledged as well. 

Shiori watched as Youji carried a box of Kise's belongings to his car, and hid a smile as Kise bounced excitedly behind him, chattering about how happy he was that he was going to be sleeping in the same house as Yukio. (Hinami had put her foot down - no matter how much Kise pleaded, she refused to let them sleep in the same room. "We have so many empty rooms," she said, missing the despair in Kise's eyes. "I don't see why you would want to double up.")

They'd already packed Seijuurou's belongings; it honestly had not amounted to very much at all. He was not the type to hold fast to sentimental items - his laptop, phone, some basketball items, and assorted school supplies were all that he had. The one thing he did seem to pride himself on was his Rakuzan uniform, which he meticulously folded and packed himself. 

Shiori stood in what had formerly been his room, looking around at the space that had been settled back to the way it was before the Miracles had arrived. She remembered these rooms as they had been before, and they at least were reverted to that state - but she, standing there, was entirely a new person, reborn from when she first met the children, and reborn once more as a new version of a mother when she adopted Seijuurou. 

"Everything is outside. We are merely waiting for the others to pack their belongings," said Seijuurou, entering the room.

"That's good," said Shiori, turning to him. He was dressed smartly in a vest and black slacks, and stood with his hands behind his back. She looked fondly at him.

He tilted his head. "Is something amiss, Mother?" 

She smiled - it had taken a while, but he now called her Mother, per her request, and, slightly more begrudgingly, Father to Masaomi. "Do excuse me. It is a mother's nostalgia during times of change to think about these sorts of things - of how you were when I first met you, to the second time I met you, and now, when you are joining our family." 

"You have mentioned your tendency to document times of change. I see that this is one of them." He closed the door behind him, and Shiori's interest was piqued. "I have something of importance to discuss with you, Mother." 

"Go on," said Shiori, sitting down on the bed. Seijuurou took to the chair at the desk, looking at her. His red and gold eyes looked into hers, directly, but now slightly less harsh after their time together. 

She would hesitate to call it fondness. Rather, she felt that she, along with Masaomi, were now grouped into the collection of people that Seijuurou called _his_. She supposed this was a good first step - given what she knew of their past, and what they were willing to share, it was better to be one of theirs than to not be. 

"You signed the adoption papers last week. I have had you and Father's name for longer. I have... respected you for even longer than that." Shiori felt a flare of pride in her chest. "However, there is something that...." He blinked, and, momentarily, Shiori felt this odd sensation that she and her son were not the only people in the room. Something - _someone_ \- else was trying to make itself known. She looked into his eyes and saw something like ....sadness. She had never seen that before in him.

"Yes, Seijuurou?" she prompted, bringing him back.

"You do not have one son. Rather, you have two. I am Akashi Seijuurou. However, within me, there is someone else who was there first. I am, in essence, the other self." 

Shiori's mind was suddenly awhirl with thoughts, the predominant one being, _I was right. Oh God. I was right. I didn't want to be right. _

The words "childhood trauma", "dissociative identity disorder", and "coping mechanism" blurred in her head, and she thought of the two boys in Cairo, two-toned clones. 

"Your eye," she said, her voice low, calm. "It's from your brother, isn't it?" 

"And my heart, and some other organs," he said. "You have noticed for a while. I do not believe any of the other adults have pieced together my story the way you have." 

"They had not met you - or Gold- before," said Shiori. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, her stomach sick.

They took apart_ another child_ and - made a patchwork doll. For what purpose? In Cairo, Gold had been one of the least wounded. It made no sense. And was the other self a manifestation of Gold, or simply the Red who broke under mourning and separated himself to protect the other?

There was something missing from this story, she knew. But it was not her place to ask. Children will come forward and talk when they want to. She could not push this. 

Shiori was quite good at being patient. She could be patient for this. 

"I will tell you, one day, of how it happened," he said, confirming her thoughts. "But I felt that, in the way you have been transparent and honest with me, unlike many humans, I extend the same honesty to you. I speak to you as one person now. But there is another- he who you met - who lies in slumber." 

"I see," said Shiori. "Will I ever meet him?" 

Seijuurou shook his head. "Doubtful. I am here to protect him. I cannot imagine a situation where he would emerge and become vulnerable again." He, for the first time since this all started, looked mildly troubled. "Do not tell Father. I do not believe he will understand this, nor will he find it acceptable."

Shiori tapped her fingers on her leg. "I am bound to be honest with Masaomi-san due to our vows and partnership. So I will instead tell him you have shared something with me that I cannot in turn share with him, and that in time, you will tell him as well one day. I believe that will suffice?"

Seijuurou did not look entirely pleased, but acquiesced. "Yes, Mother." 

"Thank you for telling me, Seijuurou. Are we ready to go outside?" 

"Quite ready."

As she left, Shiori gave it one last glance. 

How odd to think that she was not the same mother she had been when she entered the room ten minutes ago. 

\-----

At a basketball game, watching from the stands, Shiori saw a shift in her son on the court and thought, _That's him. _

_That's the boy I first called my son. _

_\----_

"It is a pleasure to meet you again, Seijuurou. I remember you well."

"Yes, Mother. It has.... been some time since we last saw each other."

\---

The news that her son has been kidnapped did not cause her to fall to her knees and weep. 

Instead, she rose to action, with a dragon by her side.

\----

Shiori had never felt so useless in her life. 

She was alone in the hospital room - Hinami, Youji, and Masaomi were on the scene. As she was the most civilian of them all, she had stayed behind with the cameras, waiting in a hospital in Hawaii that was already informed of those that might come. She was in what would be Seijuurou's room, as they assumed that he would be injured in at least some way, and two floors down, Furihata Kouki's family waited for the arrival of their son.

The camera system set up by the second Teiko that Masaomi had hacked into showed everything in detail, and Shiori could only watch as the scene unfolded before her on her laptop. 

She watched with bated breath, knowing that Youji was supposed to be coming out of this specific entrance now according to their plan, with the car waiting and Sayuri in the front seat ready to speed away. She waited and watched, and waited, and - 

Youji burst through the door, Seijuurou holding his head and stumbling behind him. She could read his lips as he yelled, almost panicked (_her son? Panicked?_), that familiar fuzzy red glow surrounding his body. 

"_Take him, he's been shot, take him immediately-" _

Youji, as Ordered, left Seijuurou behind as he ran towards the car, and it screeched away. Her son then rejoined the battle, wounded but carrying on. 

She did not miss that Seijuurou, even while fighting, turned briefly to watch the car leave.

\----

After [ their discussion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20913074/chapters/53808097) where Seijuurou indeed admitted he had fallen for Furihata, Shiori managed to gently move the conversation around so that Masaomi did not guess why Seijuurou insisted staying longer despite the fact that his charts appeared fine. Masaomi for the most part was distracted by rehoming the second Teiko children and left his son and wife to their own devices. Youji and Hinami also were deeply involved, and once Shiori had convinced them to go back to Japan and focus on the other children, it was just the two of them.

"I heard Furihata-kun will be able to take visitors tomorrow," said Shiori as she sketched her son. He was reclined in the bed, but fully dressed and working on his laptop, no doubt doing something for the company he would one day inherit. She focused her drawing on his face - slightly tired, pinched with concern. 

"Yes. I plan to see him as soon as visiting hours allow," said Seijuurou. He continued to type for another moment, and then paused. "Mother?"

"Hm?" she hummed back, shading in his hair now. 

"You once told me that I would meet someone who would save me with a story." 

She smiled. "Yes, I did. And I still believe it."

"He... Mother, it was Furi." He looked up and met her gaze, red eyes bright and vulnerable. "He saved me with a story. And another. And then another. I would not have gotten out of there as myself if it were not for him."

"I am glad," said Shiori, setting aside her sketchbook to reach out and hold her son's hand. "Do you know what you will say to him?"

Seijuurou nodded. "Yes. I can only hope he... reciprocates."

"And if he does not?" asked Shiori, carefully watching her son's face. 

"Then I will respect his wishes. If he asks for time, or space, I can give that. I will give him whatever is necessary." Seijuurou looked over at the sketchpad. "You're drawing me again." 

"It's a time of transition, after all. When things change, I'd like to remember how it was then," said Shiori, picking up her sketchpad again. "You know my habits."

"Hm, yes, the documentation," said Seijuurou, returning to his laptop. 

"Perhaps one day I will be able to draw the two of you together," said Shiori, quirking her lips up in a mischievous smile, and her son groaned. 

"_Mother-"_

_\----_

As her son chose to go to Rakuzan and live most of his time in the dorms there, Shiori had spent much time going between their house in Tokyo and that in Kyoto, and in between, video calling her son. 

It was during these calls she learned of her son's courting of Furihata - something she found deeply endearing. She listened to him talk about the texting, the phone calls, and most recently, the bout of jealousy involving a soccer player (to which Shiori withheld her laughter at the disdain on her son's face). 

"Courting? That's kind of old-fashioned, isn't it?" hummed Hinami as Shiori curled up next to her on the couch, her head on her wife's lap.

"I do believe he's inspired by Furihata-kun's favorite books. The boy is quite fond of Jane Austen," said Shiori, closing her eyes and relaxing. "Apparently today's events were something important that he was planning, something rather elaborate."

"Well, at least it seems Furihata-kun is aware he is being pursued," sighed Hinami. 

Shiori giggled, reaching out for her wife's hand. "You're still not over how long it took Yukio, are you?"

"Three _years, _Shiori. And what's worse, I didn't see it either!" 

Shiori was about to make a comment that would have thrown them several decades into the past, but was interrupted by her cell phone going off. She glanced at the screen and sat up quickly when she read it. "It's Seijuurou." 

Hinami helped her up. "Take it." 

Shiori held the phone to her ear. "Seijuurou?"

"_Mother_," he breathed on the other line, his voice full of joy, and Shiori smiled. 

\-----

As time went on, Shiori heard various updates on their relationship. She heard his frustration with the distance, as well as his veiled concerns (which she picked out from his vague complaints as he was of course _completely in control of the situation, Mother, really-_) 

It was odd, watching her son date. When she had first met her son after the escape from Teiko, she had not truly considered dating an option for him - after all, it was enough that he branched out of his Generation, connected to her and Masaomi, and, to a lesser extent, Hinami and Youji. It was jarring already to see him being doted on by his basketball team, even though he pretended to be irritated by it. 

She'd held it in her mind for so long that Seijuurou might never feel the same pulse of love that she felt for her spouses, or the warm, deep affection for her co-spouse. She would have been fine with it- after all, she'd known people who never felt romantic affection their whole lives and felt unbothered by that - but she was curious if it was that he could not feel the affection, or that he simply had not yet. In comparison to how openly Ryouta leapt after Yukio, Seijuurou's nature seemed somewhat anathematic to romantic love. However, she did not want to assume it was not possible. 

So when she saw him muttering about shipping times for gifts, or wondering aloud if, perhaps, a trip to remote Alaskan islands to observe the Aurora Borealis was too soon for a third date, she kept her smiles to herself and instead nodded along seriously with his concerns. She wondered if Masaomi would have been this concerned about coming on too strong, and then decided, no, Masaomi really had never cared about keeping up appearances. He would have done the islands on the third date, and if they scared someone off, then they weren't right for him. 

Whereas Seijuurou was cautious of making sure everything was perfect, tailored to Furihata's needs, even when Shiori was fairly sure that the boy would have been just happy with her son's company. But that was not for her to meddle in. Despite their similarities, Seijuurou and Masaomi were not the same person, and as Seijuurou grew up, she had to figure out new baselines again and again for understanding her son. Seeing her son as someone's boyfriend was one new transition for her to document, to understand. 

\---

On a rare weekend that Seijuurou was here in Tokyo rather than in Kyoto, Shiori passed his room to hear him playing music she didn't recognize. Perhaps a contemporary violinist, or works from a lesser known Baroque artist?

However, the music kept starting and stopping- and she could sense his irritation from just hearing it. She knocked on his door, and heard a frustrated, "Yes?" 

"May I come in?" 

A huff, and then, "I suppose." 

Shiori entered to see Seijuurou standing at his desk, leaning over to click on something on the screen. It appeared to be a digital music sheet, and he was moving around notes. It took her a moment, but she realized - "Are you composing?" 

"Attempting to," said Seijuurou. He blew out a frustrated sigh. "It has not been very successful." 

Shiori gestured to the door. "I can leave if you'd like."

He went quiet, looking at the screen, and then back at his mother. "Perhaps you can help. Do you recall the conversation we had, back when I lived at the JSDF, where I debated if I could have humanity in my music, as a product of Teiko?" 

"I do recall that," said Shiori, immensely pleased that this is where the conversation was leading. 

"I would like to put my emotion into music," said Seijuurou, "And I am finding that I... cannot adequately express how I feel about him. The music I create does not evoke how I feel, and thus, I still feel that I lack that humanity that separates my art from that of humans." 

"You are human," said Shiori firmly, knowing that this time around, she could say that. "It is a very human feeling to think that your art is not sufficiently expressing your feelings. This is something I feel constantly with my artwork."

Seijuurou seemed to acknowledge this, pausing as he examined his violin. He then asked, "Do you have any suggestions, Mother?" 

Settling onto a chair in the corner of the room, she said, "It looks like you're trying to compose before actually playing anything. Have you tried improvisation?"

Frowning, Seijuurou said, "I am not the type to improvise, Mother." 

"You also were not the type to fall in love, Seijuurou. You are not the same person you were before you loved Furihata-kun."

"I suppose not," allowed Seijuurou, still looking doubtful. Leaning over to the desk, he clicked the record button on the screen, the light flickering red. He straightened up and adjusted his stance, glancing down at his instrument with mixed emotions. 

And then he began to play. 

It was slow at first - drawn out, and Shiori noted where there were pauses as he thought ahead to what to play next. However, eventually, he picked up speed, the pauses becoming less frequent as he seemed to lean into the music, swaying gently as he played. 

Shiori noticed when he would stop and go back to an earlier melody, fleshing it out, then dropping it in favor of another. He would pause, and then repeat a part several times, as if savoring the sound, only to go to another piece. 

After a while, he stopped, and looked expectantly at Shiori. His eyes were bright, and his face looked far lighter than it had earlier. He switched off the recording and looked at her expectantly. 

"Did you hear it?" he asked, the red of his eyes alight with joy. She knew he was not simply referring to the music. 

_"I feel no need to evoke or share emotion when I play," Seijuurou had said, all those years ago.   
_

"I did," said Shiori, her pride as a mother and artistic mentor threatening to overflow inside her. "You evoke your feelings for him very strongly when you improvise. It seems fitting for someone you are constantly trying to understand and better know, doesn't it?" 

"You are correct," said Seijuurou, looking back at the computer. "I will work with what I improvised and hope to have it written down soon enough to record."

"You're creating a real recording?" asked Shiori, mildly surprised. 

"It will be our three month anniversary soon," said Seijuurou. "I've been told it can be appropriate to mark these significant times with gifts. I felt composing music inspired by Kouki would be appropriately romantic. I admit, I had not realized how difficult it would be."

"It can be very difficult to manifest such a strong emotion through art, especially if even quantifying it with words is still hard." She suspected that her son struggled with telling Furihata how he felt; given what she knew of Teiko, it wasn't surprising that withholding information felt safer than sharing it. She had worked hard to be a confidant to her son, and still she knew there was much to learn about him. She knew that Furihata had to feel the same way, in the same way she had felt there had been so much more to learn about Masaomi as they first became friends. 

"I hope it will... achieve some level of success in sharing my emotions," said Seijuurou, looking somewhat unsettled. 

"If it is any consolation," said Shiori mischievously, "Your father pined after your other father for years before sharing any feelings, so you're well ahead of him on the timeline." 

Seijuurou smirked. "That is somewhat relieving, Mother." 

-

"You quite like your team, don't you?" asked Shiori one evening during a gentle lull in their conversation after Seijuurou described an amusing incident regarding his teammates and watermelon ("I insisted, no, Kotarou, you do _not _need to crush it with your thighs to prove a point, but Reo kept urging him on..."). 

"I am pleased by their progress as a team... most of the time" He blinked at her, ruby eyes wide. She had always wondered why, unlike the other Miracles, he had catlike pupils. Perhaps designed as a intimidation technique? Or simply an aesthetic decision of the scientist in charge of his particular line? "Do you feel I do not care for my team?" 

"No, I am merely curious," said Shiori, smiling softly. "You've grown very much as a captain and teammate, I feel." Between his Generation, his family, his teammates, and now his partner, she watched these transitions with great interest. 

"I see... Are you busy next weekend?" he asked abruptly, and Shiori shook her head. "I... was planning to come to Tokyo."

Shiori smiled, noting it had been several weeks since his last visit. "That's lovely, Seijuurou. I understand you are generally very busy, but it would be nice to see you, among your visit with Furihata-kun, seeing the children at the base, and business with your father." She herself sometimes went to the base to try to work with the rescued children there, but couldn't quite connect with them in the way that she heard Furihata had. She was actually quite keen to talk to him about that one day, when they knew each other better; when Seijuurou had confided in her that Furihata was immune, like she was, she instantly felt a kinship with this boy. 

Seijuurou nodded. "Ah. Yes. Well, on that. I... would like you to meet Kouki. With me. Somewhere."

Only with years of practice did Shiori keep her poker face as her son stumbled through his invitation. "That sounds wonderful, Seijuurou - did you have a schedule in mind?" 

"Yes, quite," said Seijuurou, relaxing a bit as he fell into what he did best- planning. "I am currently deciding between a walk through the hydrangeas at the Hondo-ji temple in Kitakogane, or, if the weather is unpleasant, a tea ceremony with cha-kaiseki at one of the restaurants we went to with clients last month that was quite up to taste..."

\----

_What does one wear to meet their future son-in-law for the first time?_ mused Shiori as she glanced over her wardrobe. Of course, it's not like Seijuurou had proposed. However, given he had recently asked her, "Theoretically, do you think Kouki would prefer a Japanese-style wedding ceremony or Western?", she didn't feel she was assuming too much there. If she knew the Miracles at all, they committed hard and fast, if any of the others were indication of these things, and despite his protests to the contrary, Seijuurou did share traits with his Generation. 

She selected a summery dress and sensible shoes for walking, as the day was a perfect example of early summer and wonderfully light and warm. Sliding on her purse and slipping a book in for the drive there, she exited the house and greeted the driver as she slid into the backseat. 

Seijuurou had been insistent they meet all together initially at the temple first, rather than he and Furihata meeting at the house, or Seijurrou and Shiori meeting Furihata at the temple. Shiori suspected he had arrived there early to scope things out, if she knew her son at all. She also guessed that he was avoiding having Furihata meet Masaomi for a good while, and she felt no need to swing a baseball bat at _that_ particular beehive. 

She thanked the driver as she was dropped off, and was admiring the beautiful hydrangeas that surrounded the main gate when she heard a polite cough behind her.

"Ah- Akashi-san?" 

She turned to see the boy she'd only previously seen on screens - that of the hacked Second Teiko screens, the media coverage of the kidnapping, and, more recently, images sent to her by Seijuurou. "Ah, Furihata-kun. It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Akashi Shiori, Seijuurou's mother."

The boy stepped forward after correctly guessing who she was, and Shiori noted with amusement that he was roughly the same height as Seijuurou, with a startlingly similar build. _I suppose they did meet playing basketball. _He bowed quickly and looked up, smiling. "I've heard a lot about you, Akashi-san."

Shiori bowed back. "Perhaps not nearly as much as I've heard about you." 

Furihata flushed and laughed nervously. "O-oh? Really? He talks about me?" 

_Oh, this poor boy has no idea how hard my son has fallen for him. _

"Mother, I have our tickets- ah, Kouki, you've arrived! I trust the car found you easily?" Seijuurou sidled up to him, and smoothly pulled him close, his arm around Furihata's waist. 

"Yeah, I think he probably doesn't even have to put in the address to my place at this point - oh, my mother really liked the hydrangea arrangement you sent her! She said thank you." Furihata glanced back and forth between Shiori and Seijuurou, likely trying to determine if the touch was appropriate or not. Given how touchy her husband acted with her co-spouse in public, Shiori was hardly phased - although Seijuurou would be loath to admit that he got any habits at all from Masaomi. 

"Of course," said Seijuurou, smiling, and Shiori remembered his stories of determination to win over Furihata's family due to initial turbulence. According to the stories, the brother had not been won over yet. However, Shiori had faith in her son's future success, if it had anything to do with Furihata. "I believe we start over here-"

And thus they were off, Shiori walking with her hands clasped behind her back, Seijuurou with his arm around Furihata's waist. Seijuurou pointed out unique aspects about the flowers compared to other breeds, their differences in coloration due to the acidity in the soil, and the history of the temple. She kept up next to them, adding in comments and admiring the flowers. Furihata excitedly would point out things he would see, asking questions about certain formations of the temple and musing on why they arranged certain bushes to be in certain places. 

It was hard to imagine that these same boys met due to being kidnapped, and then subsequently bonded over being held hostage in an extreme situation for a week. Shiori noted how Furihata leaned into Seijuurou, but still with that new-relationship nervousness. Well, actually, overall, he seemed like a vaguely nervous person. It would make sense he would be drawn to someone as steady as Seijuurou. 

"And over here we- hmm?" Seijuurou extracted his arm from Furihata to reach into his pocket, his cell phone alight. "Excuse me, Kouki- Hello?" Shiori instantly recognized the shift in his demeanor - it was a work call, and one that could not be ignored. 

"One moment- Kouki, Mother, I apologize, I need to take this-" 

"Oh, yeah, sure, go ahead!" said Furihata. "I'll just - we'll just-" He turned around, clearly looking for something to say and then not quite having anything to follow up with. 

"There are some benches we can sit at while we wait," supplied Shiori, who gestured towards some nearly. Furihata gratefully grasped the lifeline and headed over to it with her. 

"You get used to this after a while," said Shiori as they settled in. "I remember when there was a merger a few years back - we eventually had to ban Masaomi-san from the dinner table as he had to step away every few moments for a call. I don't think we saw him at the table for a month." 

Furihata laughed a little bit. "Akashi did mention something about a merger going on this week. I think he's in charge of it this time, so I guess he will be doing this a lot." 

_He calls Seijuurou 'Akashi'? Interesting. _Not everyone shared her naming penchants - after all, Hinami was usually 'Senpai' still, and Masaomi 'Masaomi-san'. But for someone his age, dating someone he was very close to, she had to wonder. 

"Does he talk to you much about work?" asked Shiori. 

"Oh, uh, sometimes, but not the details, really? I like to sort of be a sounding board for him when he's trying to work through something. I don't think I help a lot but it feels good to help, especially since he's been so helpful with me." Furihata smiled and reached out to touch a hydrangea bloom, fiddling with the petals. 

"I understand that," said Shiori, leaning back on the bench. The warm sunlight fell across her face as she regarding Furihata. "From what Seijuurou has told me, you helped him a great deal during the incident at the second Teiko, and continue to help him now." 

"O-oh? That's... really good to hear," said Furihata, turning to her. "I don't like to talk about what happened much, but that's with people who don't really get it. Like my classmates and stuff, unless they know Kuroko really well, it's just this whole other world for them. But you... you get it, since you raised Akashi and live with Kise and all. You understand that it's all complicated and difficult, with their past, and dating them, and everything."

"More than you'd think, actually." She had thought of the right time to mention this, to bridge the connection between the two of them. Now seemed as good a time as any, especially if she wanted to put him at ease. "I am also immune to the Miracles' powers." 

"You're immune too?" asked Furihata, brown eyes wide. "I... didn't know there were others."

"My son knows that it's dangerous to share this knowledge, and so, he said he would let me share the information when the time came. He did however tell me at the hospital about you, given understandable concerns with his powers and being in a relationship." 

"It's weird, isn't it?" asked Furihata. "Did you know? Like, somehow, that you were different? I feel kind of dumb but I didn't know until I had been - ah, kidnapped and... Yeah." His face fell at that, and Shiori delicately picked up the thread of conversation he let drop. 

"No, I really had no idea until I met them all for the second time at the base. The first time we met, I had no idea at all."

"The first time? That was in Cairo, right? I remember you talked at the Special Diet about that," said Furihata thoughtfully. Shiori was about to ask why he was there and then remembered - Furihata was Kuroko's teammate. "Akashi doesn't talk about Gold much, but I know he was there, in Cairo. I think... It's hard to look back. He misses Gold a lot."

"I think so too. The other Miracles - you are close to Kuroko-kun, right?" asked Shiori, steering the conversation away from what was a very delicate topic. If Seijuurou came back and heard this, it would certainly shift his mood and possibly who was in charge at the moment. Not that she didn't love both facets - but she was unsure if Furihata did. _He must know_, she thought. _To love someone after such a traumatic event that they went through... surely the other Seijuurou appeared at least once. _

"Oh yeah, Kuroko is great!" said Furihata, perking up. "You know, it's funny- I probably should have realized I was immune when I could see Kuroko and everyone else kept forgetting he was there. I kept telling myself people missed him because he's a quiet guy but when I learned about the Latent Overflow thing, it started to make sense." He giggled a little bit, and Shiori smiled, encouraging him, as he said, "One time I had Kuroko over to study and he stayed for dinner - my parents and brother kept forgetting to pass him things he was asking for! I got so mad, and I told them off after, but now I realize, well, it was his Latent Overflow, wasn't it?"

"Likely so," said Shiori. "It is a bit odd, being immune- neither you nor I asked for it, but it affects us deeply now that we're intertwined with Miracles, aren't we?" 

Furihata nodded eagerly, and Shiori could tell he had been dying to tell someone about this, to connect. "And if I'd never met them, I simply wouldn't have known that there was this other aspect of me." 

"Yeah! And I'm really glad to have met Akashi. He's just so... smart, and kind, and caring," said Furihata, smiling at the direction that Akashi had taken his phone call. He then jolted a bit and laughed awkwardly. "Ah, sorry. I bet it's kind of weird for me to talk about your son like that? I've never met a parent of a partner... Well, I've actually never had a partner before?" 

"It's alright," said Shiori. "I actually never met my spouses' parents, so don't think of it as something you're lacking in that'll affect you."

"What? Really?" asked Furihata, wide eyed. "But... you have two spouses, so surely..." 

"Neither my wife or husband have living parents," said Shiori. "And I suppose I never had the most traditional of relationships before them anyhow, so if it helps, I wouldn't know the proper protocol for a successful first meeting with a parent of a partner." 

"Good to know I can't really mess it up that badly in comparison then," said Furihata, relaxing a bit and laughing. He and Shiori shared a moment of comfortable quiet, and then she heard rapid footsteps and then, "Kouki! Mother!" as Seijuurou approached, his phone still to his ear.

"Everything alright?" asked Shiori, seeing the steely-eyed look in Seijuurou's eye that matched Masaomi's when there was an error that he took it solely upon himself to fix. 

"I'm on hold right now while they get the vice president... our East Tokyo branch is _useless, _honestly..." He sighed and shook his head. "I apologize but this may take another fifteen minutes or so."

"It's okay!" said Furihata, smiling at Seijuurou. "Don't stress yourself out too much, okay? Whatever the issue is, it's got to be a solvable problem, right?"

A brief look of fondness crossed over Seijuurou's face as he regarded Furihata softly. "Yes. Yes, it is." 

Furihata leaned up and very quickly kissed Seijuurou's cheek, who looked immensely pleased. "Your mom and I can stay here, don't worry about us, okay, Akashi?"

"Understood," said Seijuurou, and then there was someone talking on the phone again. "Yes, yes, Yamamoto-san, as I was saying-" He headed off again, and Shiori watched as Furihata watched him go. 

"He told me your favorite book is Mansfield Park. I suppose it's a mighty coincidence, but so is mine," said Shiori, opening up another conversational path that Furihata then latched on to immediately. 

"Is it? Incredible! It's so intriguing- most people overlook it, but the whole book is about the _layers, _isn't it? And then you get into character motivations-"

They passed a pleasant time talking about the book, and eventually the conversation shifted towards books at large. 

"People say that no one writes like that anymore but that's simply not true! There's lots of good content out there, especially self-published works," said Furihata, now gesturing wildly. "Especially queer literature!" 

"Oh yes, I recall how hard it was to find queer works back in the day," mused Shiori. "Especially about bisexual people - you'd think we were invisible." 

"Right?" said Furihata, his hands flailing a bit. "None of the other Miracle boyfriends are bisexual - I feel like such an outlier among my friends, honestly. It feels different being bi than gay, you know? But it sounds like... you and your spouses and Youji-san are all bi?"

_Oh this poor teenager, _thought Shiori, realizing something. _He doesn't have a single older male bisexual role model, does he? _

"Yes. You know, if you'd like, you can talk to Youji about this," said Shiori. "I'm not sure if your parents approve of your relationship, but he knows what it's like when they don't." _To put it mildly. _

"Oh, I don't want to impose," said Furihata, and Shiori noted he immediately shrank back a bit. "It's just... cool knowing there are other bi people out there that I know? Ah, I guess, including you, Akashi-san. My parents aren't against my relationship at all! It's just, they... don't really _get_ it." She noticed how he put emphasis on parents, which confirmed Shiori's theory that the brother had not yet been won over yet. 

"Well, do let me know if you need someone to talk to," said Shiori, noting that Seijuurou was striding towards them. "Seijuurou can let you know how to best get ahold of me. If you ever need to, I'm available."

"Of course, Akashi-san," said Furihata, looking a lot less anxious than he had when they had first been left alone together. "Akashi! Did you figure out the issue?"

"Yes, with no thanks to Yamamoto-san," said Seijuurou, taking Furihata's hand and squeezing it. "But enough of that. There are still flowers to see." 

The time flew by as Shiori contented herself to watching her son and his partner admire the flowers and talk, briefly losing themselves in their own little world. As they approached the end of the tour, she gestured for them to sit at a bench. "I have a request of you two." 

"Don't tell me-" said Seijuurou, realizing where this was going. His cheeks briefly flushed red as she pulled her sketchbook out of her bag. 

"Are you going to draw the flowers?" asked Furihata, who hadn't picked up on where this was going. 

"I'd actually like to sketch you two, if possible," said Shiori. "As Seijuurou well knows, I document times of change and transition with drawing portraits. If possible, I'd like to draw the two of you."

Seijuurou tried to hide his embarrassment, but when Furihata said, "Oh, of course! That sounds nice - what do you think, Akashi?", he immediately said, "That sounds lovely, Mother."

Shiori withheld a snicker as she set herself up at a chair nearby, sketchpad against her legs. "Go on, just talk. I don't need you to sit still at all." 

As Seijuurou was used to portraits, he simply turned away and began to speak to Furihata, taking his hand and meeting his gaze. Furihata, unused to this, occasionally glanced over at Shiori, looking down at her sketch, but then quickly turning back to Seijuurou. Eventually, they felt deep into conversation about the upcoming basketball games and past strategies of the Cup that just ended, leaving Shiori to her portrait. 

Perhaps she would keep this in her portfolio. Perhaps she would hang it up one day, on the wall, along with her portraits of Masaomi and Youji, or Youji and Hinami. She might even give the original to Furihata, who looked at her son with such adoration that she felt privileged to document it. 

This was a time of transition - not just for her, but for her son as well. And she was very glad to be able see it and sketch it, line by line. 


	22. A Strange Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No, I have no intentions of killing Mob," snapped Reigen, offended and astounded. "Who... who the hell are you?" 
> 
> \---
> 
> (Designation: Miracle and Mob Psycho 100 Crossover)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have not read the most recent chapters of This is Love, you probably won't feel this as much but it'll still make sense in a different context if you've read the other stories in the series. Isn't reading fun like that?  
Mob Psycho knowledge needed- preferably the end of season 2 but honestly if you've seen season 1 you know that Mob is Bonkers Powerful and that's all you really need to know. 
> 
> This is a VERY experimental piece, so I'm going to be writing a sort of Sparknotes summary at the bottom if it confused you at all. I also know that not everyone who has read D:M has seen MP100 but for the like... 4 of you that fit that crossover, I hope you enjoy this!

"No, I have no intentions of _killing Mob_," snapped Reigen, offended and astounded. "Who... who the hell _are _you?" 

(Fifteen minutes earlier)

It was as regular as a Tuesday afternoon could be. Reigen was shuffling through paperwork, musing on the best way to get a particular tax credit with the least amount of illegality while waiting for his four p.m appointment. Mob was at the table in the corner, perusing the website for any edits that needed to be made. Serizawa was out along with Dimple scouting a possible spirit haunting on the edge of town.

"Mob, can you-" started Reigen, holding up a sheaf of paper, but was interrupted by knocking on the door. "Ah, that's the four p.m."

Mob hopped up and opened the door to a man dressed in business-casual clothes. Reigen noted instantly that they were dressed in _very _nice business casual - tailored jeans, a smartly fitted vest, and elegant shoes. His beard was closely cropped and trimmed expertly, his nails perfectly manicured. _A wealthy man, it seems. How lucky. _

The pleasant sound of falling bills echoing in his head, he smiled and said, "Ah- Sakurai Shigure, was it? Come, sit down."

"Thank you," said the man, smiling in a charming way at Mob. "Ah, is this your young assistant?" 

"Intern," said Mob, who, oddly, looked cautiously at Sakurai. "Master, I will be over here if you need anything."

"Well, of course," said Reigen, mildly confused, as that was expected that Mob would be nearby if he was on shift. Reigen didn't need the reminder. 

"Actually," coughed Sakurai. "It's a spirit of an... _intimate_ nature that shouldn't really be discussed in front of minors." 

"Ah," said Reigen, realizing that this is why such a wealthy man would come to him instead of one of the more famous spirit handlers, if it was a very discreet task needed. In fact, he did look mildly familiar... where had he seen him before? Perhaps he was a model - he certainly had the looks for it. 

Oh dear. If it was an actual spirit, and one of an _intimate_ nature, he'd need to call Seirazawa back since Mob couldn't be involved. _Well, best find out if it's a spirit or something I can handle. _

"Mob, you can head downstairs and monitor the door in case we have walk-ins," said Reigen. 

"Give a shout if you need me, Master," said Mob, uncharacteristically blunt in front of a complete stranger. "I'll be right downstairs. Very close by." He seemed to still be skirting around Sakurai, uncomfortable, and, dare Reigen say it, on edge. 

"Er, right," said Reigen, now officially confused. What had gotten into Mob? Was this a puberty issue? God, he hoped he wouldn't have to help Mob navigate that. He had a hard enough time as it was with his own teenage years. A powerful esper with mood swings seemed like a hellish thing to deal with. And he'd dealt with a hell of a lot so far. 

A voice whispered in the back of his head that he would deal with anything, regardless of its level of hellishness, for his student. He promptly scooted that notion back into the corner of his mind where it belonged with all of the other deeply sentimental feelings he had for other humans. 

Mob gave one last look at Sakurai and closed the door behind him. Reigen's phone flashed briefly, showing that he had a text from Mob, but since it would be rude to look at it in front of a customer, Reigen merely nudged the phone under the sheaves of papers and said, "Now that we're all adults here, how can I help you, Sakurai-san?"

"Your intern doesn't like me," said Sakurai thoughtfully. 

"Don't mind Mob," said Reigen. "You know how teenagers are. After all, we were teenagers once too, right?"

"I hardly was," said Sakurai, leaving Reigen to further wonder what the hell was happening. What an odd response. 

His phone lit up again, flashing with another text from Mob.

Now that he thought about it, Mob might have texted him if he'd seen the spirit on Sakurai's body. Damn. Well, he'd check it when he offered the man some tea, as he was facing the setup station. "Would you like some tea? I've got some fresh matcha from Shizouka. Very good for spirit cleansing, if we're heading in that direction."

"That would be lovely," said Sakurai, smiling in a way that Reigen supposed put most people at ease, but instead, he withheld a startle at seeing it.

It was a very familiar smile. He knew because it was the same one used when he was playing people. 

Using sleight of hand, Reigen stood up from behind his desk and grabbed his cell phone, tucking it into his sleeve. Heading over to the setup station, he arranged the tea and cups, all in all thirty seconds of work. Crouched over appropriately enough to shield his view, Reigen checked his phone-

\- to see no messages from Mob. 

Impossible. He swore that he saw notifications on the screen that said he had messages from Mob. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sakurai slip his phone back into his pocket. 

Mob's actions earlier were starting to make slightly more sense. 

Bringing the tea over, Reigen set it down and settled in. "So, this spirit- is it haunting your bedroom? Your phone? Perhaps in the form of a past lover?" 

"We can get to that in a moment," said Sakurai, leaning forward. "So I was very curious to see a nowhere town like Seasoning City on the news. Seems you have a lot of espers here. And being that you're a psychic, you probably interact with them often."

_Is he an esper? _thought Reigen, his stomach clenching in fear. "Yes, what you saw in the news was right. There are espers here." 

"Quite strong ones too," said Sakurai, not touching his tea. "The devastation radius of that one esper in particular- the one that caused the city to basically explode and then turn into plants? Powerful indeed."

"If you're curious about espers, there are plenty of websites to go to," said Reigen, feeling unsettled about this turn of conversation. Something was very, very odd here. "I'm a psychic, not an esper."

As if Sakurai hadn't heard, he continued, "And it seems that you've got the most powerful one working for you, don't you?"

"It's a psychic agency, of course espers are involved," said Reigen, wondering if he was talking about Mob or Serizawa, and not really being fond of either answer. "Also, if you knew all this, why are you-"

"You do realize how _dangerous_ a teen esper is, don't you?" asked Sakurai, his eyes sharp, and Reigen had the oddest impression flash through his mind. 

He'd often been called a snake in reference to his fraudulent ways. He took it in stride because snakes were stealthy, deadly, and above all, survivors. It was a compliment, really.

But right now, it didn't feel like a protection. He felt like a snake looking up into the eyes of a lumbering dragon standing above him. 

And he felt frozen. 

"He could snap his fingers and kill the whole world. Loses his temper, we blink out of existence," said Sakurai, and Reigen's freeze began to thaw, warmed by creeping rage. "You know what would be better for everyone? What we should do about those teenagers with the power of absolute destruction?"

"I can't imagine what you're going to say would be anything kind towards them," said Reigen, immediately dropping pretenses. This clearly wasn't about Serizawa. "What do you have against Mob?" 

"Interesting on that note, by the way," said Sakurai, his eyes glinting. "You name him that? Arrogant move, giving a name to someone when they're already born with one."

"People give nicknames all the time," said Reigen. "Mob has never requested I call him otherwise. Also, you're clearly not here for a spiritual appointment, are you?" He could yell for help. He could get Mob up here instantly, have him literally throw this man out. But Reigen still wasn't sure what this guy's angle was, and if he presented a danger to Mob, Reigen wanted to at least drag a bit more info out of this man. 

"God no, I don't deal with that garbage," said Sakurai disdainfully. "Now that that's out of the way, what do you intend to _do_ about this highly powerful, _highly dangerous_ teenager you've got?"

"Pay him minimum wage and make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble, so far," said Reigen, now wondering if this incredibly bizarre man was from some sort of child protection services. "If you're wondering if he's being abused or anything, he's not. That kid stands up for himself. I would know. And his parents are perfectly lovely." _If somewhat naive_, thought Reigen bitterly, thinking on how Mob and Ritsu felt so out of place growing up in their own ways. They really should have noticed those brother issues sooner. 

"There's a sort of debt someone feels towards the first person who doesn't seem them as a monster," said Sakurai archly. "Is it nice, having Mob indebted to you? I'm guessing he can trade his powers off to other people - are you waiting to take them from him?"

"No thanks - I've had those powers before and don't need them again," said Reigen, shivering slightly at the memory of how close they were to death at the Claw headquarters. "Also, he's free to leave. He's done it before. If you're implying I'm holding Mob hostage, I can bring him up here and have him talk about it himself." Would Sakurai see his bluff? He wasn't ready to call for Mob yet... There was something here, still; Sakurai was probing Reigen for a reason.

"It's not about your actions," said Sakurai. "It's about Mob feeling indebted to someone who doesn't treat him like a monster. That aside, let's go back to what I was saying earlier. Rather than having this extraordinarily gifted, _extraordinarily dangerous _teenager be set loose upon the world, isn't the easier solution just to off them?"

"No, I have no intentions of _killing Mob_," snapped Reigen, offended and astounded. "Who... who the hell _are _you?" 

"Unimportant," said Sakurai, waving his hand. "Do you not realize the danger here? Why does this teenager's existence merit the rest of the world being in danger?"

"He has a right to live like everyone else," said Reigen, leaning forward on the desk. "I've seen him in the wildest situations - clearly you've done your research, so you know I have - he doesn't aim to hurt. He doesn't aim to kill. He wants to be normal-"

Sakurai's eyes flashed at that. "So instead of taking his life, he's squashing it down instead, to fit in."

Reigen gestured at his office, at the end of his politeness rope. "Clearly he's using his powers in this line of work! He's grown better to accept them, and will continue to do so, _unless someone kills him, which is pretty off the table, you absolute psycho." _

"So instead of protecting the world and offing this kid, you're keeping this teenager safe, giving him responsibilities, and trusting him?" said Sakurai, his voice now completely unreadable. Reigen felt like the dragon was leaning close to him, fiery breath exhaling on his tiny snake frame.

But he wasn't down yet. His scales weren't burnt. His body was unbroken.

And he still had his fangs.

"I'll defend Mob until the day I die, and if I have to become a ghost to haunt the people that want to hurt him after that,_ I will absolutely do that_," snarled Reigen. "He's a teenager. He will make mistakes, he will have these incredible powers, he will do dumb things at school and fall in love and make friends, he will continue to live and I don't want _anyone_ thinking that he is better off dead because of the _potential_ harm he can do. That's bullshit. Fuck off." 

Hearing that, Sakurai leaned back in his chair.

And grinned. 

"Oh excellent," he said. "I feel quite the same way."

"Excuse me?" asked Reigen, flabbergasted. "You come in here, lie about wanting an appointment, threaten my student, and then tell me you _agree_ with me?"

"Haven't you ever heard of being the devil's advocate?" asked Sakurai. "I needed to see if you agreed with my mentality. You've proven yourself to be in the same mindset as me regarding this particular issue. Congratulations. You know, this was fun. We should do it again sometime."

"Verbally harass each other?" asked Reigen, dumbfounded. "Again, _who are you?"_

"A businessman," said Sakurai, pulling out his wallet. "Now, I've lost you an appointment slot where you would be paid for normally, right?"

"That's right," said Reigen, his anger about the Mob issue ebbing away to reveal his annoyance at this unfortunate fact. "From one businessman to another, that's pretty rude." 

"You're understandably upset, and so, I'll compensate you for your time," said Sakurai, fishing out an envelope and bills - _wow that's - that's a lot of bills - _and putting it down on the desk. "How much is an appointment like this anyway? Eh. It doesn't matter. Look, I like your attitude. If you ever want to come work for me, this is what your first month's salary would be." He shoved _many bills_ into the envelope and slid it over, along with an upside-down business card. "Nice meeting you. Let me know if you ever come to Kyoto. Your student and my kid might get along. Heck, if he wants to work for me after college, let me know. I don't have any espers on staff yet. Could come in handy."

With that, he left, Reigen too stunned to respond. 

The second that Sakurai opened the door, Mob was mere feet away, looking intensely at him. However, he let Sakurai pass, and quickly entered the office. "Master! Are you alright? I heard yelling so I ran upstairs but it stopped so abruptly-"

"I'm fine," said Reigen, still slightly dazed. "Count these bills, will you?"

Mob frowned, but took them. As he counted, he said, "Master, I don't know if you saw my texts, but that man had an extremely powerful aura. That's why I didn't want to leave you alone with him. I think his son - there was a boy waiting in car that looked like it belonged to him - he had a powerful aura too. And a spirit presence." 

"He didn't hurt me," said Reigen, still processing what had happened. "Wait. What? Spirit presence?" The memory of Sakurai saying "my kid" flashed into his mind, but if there was an actual spirit issue, clearly the father didn't know. 

Mob nodded as he counted the bills. "There was a boy in the car- my age, I think? He had a powerful aura too, very red, and there was a spirit with him. I wasn't sure if that was part of the issue but it sounded like he wasn't here for a spirit issue at all."

"Whatever the issue was, we resolved it," said Reigen firmly. No need to drag Mob into the incredibly bizarre conversation that took place. "Was the spirit malevolent?" 

Mob shook his head rapidly. "Not at all, Master. In fact, I think he was more of a ghost... But benevolent. If I had to guess, I'd say it was a passed family member or something following him around. But in a protective way, not a harmful way." 

"So we don't need to tell him?" asked Reigen, not very eager to jump back into conversation with Sakurai. 

Mob shook his head. "I don't think so. No bad will come of it. The spirit seemed pretty happy to be with the son."

Well he certainly wasn't going to poke that particular bear any further.

Curious, Reigen reached out and flipped up the business card next to the envelope.

_Akashi Masaomi. Akashi Industries. _

Son of a - 

"He used a fake name?!" exclaimed Reigen, jumping to his feet from his desk. "Are you kidding - _that_ was Akashi Masaomi?"

"Who's that?" asked Mob, blinking in confusion. _Oh right. This kid has no concept of pop culture. _

"He owns half of the companies in Japan and is incredibly famous- I knew he looked familiar-" 

And then the other shoe dropped.

The son. 

_Miracles. _

He'd seen the news. Reigen had vaguely wondered if those kids that were rescued were espers but the news was quick to say they were lab experiments - honestly the worst of humanity right there, those damn scientists. It was an awful affair overall. But he hadn't paid much attention to it after that, except brief flurry of news about Akashi Masaomi adopting one of the Miracles to be his heir. 

He probably should have paid more attention, in hindsight. But in his defense, seeing celebrities in the flesh was always so uncanny that often they went unnoticed. He couldn't possibly be blamed for missing the fact that the most powerful man in Japan had sat in front of him for fifteen minutes, yelling at him. 

"How much do we have there?" asked Reigen, putting the job offer and insanity of the conversation in the back of his mind where the things he didn't want to think about were kept. 

"We have..." Mob kept counting out loud, and Reigen felt faint. 

A month's salary? That was more than he made here in _a year. _

"Well," said Reigen, trying not to pass out immediately. "I'd say we've earned our pay for the day. Text Serizawa-san to meet us at that one ramen place near the park."

"The fancy one?" asked Mob, eyes wide. 

"That one," confirmed Reigen. "And I'll tell you about how to handle rude businessmen while we're eating. Consider it HR training. A brown-bag lunch, if you will."

"Yes, Master," said Mob, gathering the bills and putting them into the envelope again. "Let me go to the restroom and I'll be right back!" He sprinted away, leaving Reigen alone with his thoughts. He slid the envelope in his pocket to deposit at the bank after dinner, and the business card into his wallet, feeling as though it somehow weighed far more than the expensive paper it was printed on. 

It had been a hell of past thirty minutes. He still wasn't entirely sure what that whole conversation was all about. But he didn't feel like Akashi Masaomi (Jesus Christ- _Akashi Masaomi_) meant Mob any harm. If anything, he felt like Akashi had been testing him on if _Reigen_ meant Mob harm.

For whatever reason Akashi apparently had deemed that necessary. And had been satisfied with the result. 

"Let's go!" said Mob excitedly. Reigen locked up and as they left, he glanced down again at his wallet with the business card inside. 

What a strange day indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if this confused you, here is my summary:  
(Spoilers for This is Love Chapter 10!!!!) 
> 
> Masaomi had seen reports about what happened in Seasoning City where Mob had repeatedly fought bad guys and blown stuff up with his mad epic esper powers. While the news didn't name Mob, Masaomi's hacking skills quickly got him the info he needed. He goes to Reigen, Mob's mentor, to see if Reigen fears Mob in the same way that his grandfather felt about Masaomi - that powerful teenage Masaomi was better off dead than a risk to the world.  
Using a fake name, he made an appointment with Reigen, made it so that Mob would not be in the same room, and pushed Reigen to be clear about his intents to not harm Mob/not fear Mob. (When he saw that Mob distrusted him, he erased Reigen's phone messages from Mob as Reigen was setting up the tea, assuming that Mob had told Reigen not to trust "Sakurai". ) In the end, Masaomi was satisfied with Reigen's reactions to Masaomi's outrageous statements and offered him a job because chances are if Reigen could put up with this, he probably would fit in well at Akashi Industries.  
Also, if it wasn't clear, the ghost-spirit haunting Akashi is Gold's spirit/soul, because that's just my sort of headcanon, that Gold follows Akashi in spirit-y sort of way. 
> 
> I hope this made sense in the reading but I know that this was a bit weird- told from not-Masaomi's perspective, with the fake name, and Masaomi was being his usual weird cryptic self- but if you didn't understand it, welp, I tried something experimental with the risk it woudn't make sense so that's on me lol.


End file.
